Her wooden stool shifted its weight
along with her body—a slight lean
backward, and the stool obeyed,
a back leg buckling slightly.
She’d always been able to control
Her surroundings—she called forth
“walk” signs or green traffic lights.
Doors swung open without her touch,
crowds parted cleanly so that she might
move through them, might impart some
of her magic. Like Neptune conductingthe sea and salty air, harvesting storms.
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