A blackbird

The magician kept his crowds on

the edges of the their seats as

he collapsed the cage and the

blackbird disappeared.

Of course, another blackbird was

up his sleeve the whole

time, as the prestige meant death.

The first blackbird always died.

It really wasn’t his best

trick, but it really was his life. He was

the blackbird, and the saddest thing was

he never knew if he was in the cage or up a sleeve.   

This poem was written for an obstruction assignment after turning in my first poem, The Prestige. I had some prompts, to keep it in third person and use some enjambments. It is far form the original at first glance, but of course I think it is close, if one has at least seen the film.