Poems by
Anthony Rubino
THE FALLEN’ S MAGIC BOX Now let us begin, there is a little black box. A little magical black box made of tin! Filled with ones and zeros, zeros and ones. Tellings of what’s been done, tellings of everything under the sun, it may even tell us how we can have some fun. For sure it tells us of where and when one’s life has begun! This little magical box made of tin may show the pretty little dimple in one’s chin. It tells where one has been, where one has been eatin’ and sleepin’— it may even contain one’s sin! Presto, hit the key and one shall see. Presto, hit the key and set the truth free! See the powers that be—magic that’s so, so tragic! In and out, out and in, a child has been in this little magical box made of tin. Discovered where the healer/pretender’s secrets are kept within, mirrored images of her and him, where they’d been eatin’ and sleepin’! Discovered all their combined sin! Zero to zero, one by one, it told of what the healer/pretender had never done! Zero by zero, one by one, it told of how, where, and when the healer/pretender’s life had begun! Pins and needles, needles and pins, against a child of light they had committed many sins! Needles and pins, pins and needles, soon—very soon—the answering begins! This child of light all along had kept what was true and right. Now the children are gathering for a heroic fight. For they know what others don’t and they’ll do what others won’t! The dark angel serenity, firewalls, and security was she able to breach. The children together again, hand in hand dancing in the sand on a pebble-laden beach and as always, as before, swords and fire sticks are within arm’s reach. Again dragons come forth! Again dragons must teach!
