The Great Godeaux

The Great Godeaux

The Great Godeaux
stood six six 
in his loin cloth
and bare feet

The last in a line 
of Haitian witch-doctors 
who had perfected
the art of shapeshifting--

he stood before us,
the Great Godeaux,
his skin glistening
with cocoa-butter.

As he stroked his   
pyramid pendant
& entered the trance,
he looked thru us

spellbound in the bleachers
behind the junior high,
empty-headed, open-mouthed,
as he unlatched the box.

The black box-only
three foot square
barely bigger than
a baby's coffin

but he stepped into it,
easing his greased body 
down like a cobra's--
the legs, trunk, head

until only a hand
remained exposed
configured in some     
mystical gesture.

Then the hand closed 
like a night flower,
slid beneath the lid
of that horrible black box.

No one spoke or thought
or even dared to giggle;
but we issued 
a collective gasp

when the lid, 
of its accord,
flipped open
and a white dove

appeared out of
the empty box,
flapping hysterically
until airborne

then slowly circling
in the darkness
above our heads,
The Great Godeaux.