My Cards

I have the show-goers: the cards are in the palm of my hand.
To some they are pieces of cardboard,
But to me they are magical.
I feel immortal with my dynamic cards
As they slide like rocks over a precipice,
Floating down to the table.
As I shuffle them they fuse together and then they divide.
I absorb the tricks
Yet they mesmerise the audience.
The Clubs are trees, swaying and blurring in the wind.
The Spades are miners, mining tricks out of the earth.
I am the card bearer:
I make the cards bend and twist in all kinds of ways.
What cards am I hiding in the middle of the deck?
I amaze the audience
Because I am the Magician.

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This poem was highly commended for Poetry Object 2015

Judge's Notes:
"The great strength of this poem is that it doesn’t just describe the cards; it makes the speaker a character, a charismatic magician, full of charms and tricks. Reading this poem is like watching someone on stage. This makes the poem exciting: not only a description, it is also a performance. And what a performance! It makes ordinary things magical, and its magic is language. This poem delights in the power of images to transform pieces of cardboard into ‘rocks over a precipice’, and clubs into ‘trees, swaying and blurring in the wind.’ The charisma of this performance makes that last line wonderfully satisfying: ‘Because I am the Magician'."
~Lisa Gorton