THE LIBERATION OF THE KNIFE-THROWER'S DAUGHTER "I saw the angel in the marble, and carved until I set him free." – Michelangelo I discern my sequined angel's silhouette, then throw. Air's punctured rush curves around itself, collapsing against the spinning glint. Semblance of magic quick-cut from the contours of a compliant girl. Something cold in that stage smile as she steps away, a traced shadow rising into the spotlight from a certain grave. Each night, the same thing: ice-bright smile, unblinking bones, applause sharp as knives. I set her free by missing. My aim is true.
"I saw the angel in the marble, and carved until I set him free."
– Michelangelo I discern my sequined angel's silhouette, then throw. Air's punctured rush curves around itself, collapsing against the spinning glint. Semblance of magic quick-cut from the contours of a compliant girl. Something cold in that stage smile as she steps away, a traced shadow
rising into the spotlight from a certain grave. Each night, the same thing: ice-bright smile, unblinking bones, applause sharp as knives. I set her free
by missing. My aim is true.