by Scott Hughes
I can levitate
a sixty-pound cannon ball.
A cement block. A broom.
I don’t know how. I just
know I can. I can fuse steel
with wood. I make crystals
inside metals rearrange
and reform. With no force
at all I can split lead pipes.
I’ve built a room
surrounded by Tesla coils.
It’s all on video, and even
the Los Alamos guys
say I didn’t fake it. They
say they want to see
for themselves. But I can’t
work when they’re around—
they want to measure
each second—they slow
everything down into steps.
If they could just see—
the nails twirling in the air;
the bulbs of mercury
floating from a cup;
as if shaped
by invisible hands,
the way a wire will loop
into a spring like a snake.