mother intoned,
thumping time on the side of the piano
with her ruler
while I struggled at the keys.
So I practiced the art of magic
(deception, we shall call it)
like  turning water to ice under a silk scarf,
and coaxing my mad dogs under the table
to silence their whimper.
They, accustomed to spaces
dark and deep, began to sleep.

Once in a dream
I carried a dead child on my shoulders
as I crept down the night hall
to the stygian mirror,  expecting to see
a snarling beast with plundered eyes.
But there was no image
in the silvered shadows.
The hair on the backs of the dogs
began to rise.

But practice makes
permanent,
While I practiced the art of the silk scarf,
and perfected the image of coolness,
the mad dogs rose, growled
and shook their chains.

—
Elizabeth Vrenios has had poetry featured in such online poetry columns as: Clementine, Kentucky Review, Form Quarterly, Scissors and Spackle and in issues of The Binnacle, Poeming Pidgeon Unsplendid and The Edison Review. Her prize-winning chapbook, Special Delivery was published by Yellow Chair Press in the spring of 2016.  She is a Professor Emerita from American University, and has spent most of her life performing as a singing artist across Europe and the United States.