The Innisfree Poetry Journal

by Kathi Wolfe

     from the Uppity Blind Girl poems

If I Had a Magic Wand,

I'd turn unwanted prayers into shout-outs
for lonely stars, neglected clouds, cats

clamoring for catnip, the boy who grabbed
my shoulder, keeping me from lurching

into the black hole below the subway platform,
Uppity told Sabrina one night after a woman,

smelling like burnt toast, patted her on the head,
saying, I'm praying for you.  If you repent,

Jesus will open your eyes and wash your sins away.
You'd see the world the Lord has made.

I've sinned with the best of them, Uppity said,
from cheating on a math test in junior high

to forgetting to feed the goldfish to stealing
my sister's boyfriend.  If I had a magic wand,

I'd wash my sins away faster than the latest
Twitter trend.  But my eyes don't need

to be opened.  I see all too well the world
that the Lord has made.  My self-portrait

is all too clear to me.  I'm the Dalai Lama
of Imperfection.  Promise me, Sabrina,

if you pray for me, use your magic wand
to comfort and anoint my blinkered eyes.

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