• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer
  • home
  • Latest Issue
    • Art
    • Interviews
    • Fiction
    • Poetry
    • Essays
  • Past Issues
  • Songs of the Sunbirds
    • recipes
    • art/video
    • poetry
    • nonfiction/essays
  • Book Reviews
  • Interviews
  • Archive
    • Art
    • Poetry
    • Fiction
    • Essays
    • Art Column
  • About
  • Submit

New Orleans Review

Since 1968

  • home
  • Latest Issue
    • Art
    • Interviews
    • Fiction
    • Poetry
    • Essays
  • Past Issues
  • Songs of the Sunbirds
    • recipes
    • art/video
    • poetry
    • nonfiction/essays
  • Book Reviews
  • Interviews
  • Archive
    • Art
    • Poetry
    • Fiction
    • Essays
    • Art Column
  • About
  • Submit
You are here: Home / 54 / Dead by Magic

Dead by Magic

54, New Poetry by Dr. T. Dallas Saylor

                  And in case they don’t work, says my landlord
          about the peanut-butter baited no-kill traps
under the sink & beside the laundry, there’s always
                  the snap-traps, more humane than poison, no
suffering—there’s even a kind where you don’t see

the mouse—it goes in the tunnel, a sensor comes on
                  to say the trap is full, & you just toss the whole tube.
          You don’t have to know what happened inside—it’s just
dead by magic! But this last month, I know what’s happened,
                  & who & when, perhaps even the minute thanks to
Reema’s dead-of-night goodbye text, & I’ve accepted

                  there is no why with any meaning, not when
          her last post packed so much gratitude one would think
it were a graduation announcement, not a
                  suicide note, not when the funeral home packed
family & friends in standing-room-only around

the closed-lid coffin, gray as a mouse. Now I lack
                  only two of the journalist questions, & I keep waiting
          for a coworker or student or local newswriter
to give me the where and how of a February night
                  far below freezing. I suppose it was death
by magic: the voices rammed against the walls

                  of her brain, & right as she was clicking post, send,
          she heard a five-a.m. knock at the door & got up
from her bedroom desk, walked the long hall,
                  & unlatched the front door, & waiting outside
like a hot pizza, like a friend’s idling engine,

it was there: the mouse-gray coffin, open,
                  a soft pillow, a strawberry boba tea,
          a mochi donut with little candy bits on top,
& she climbed over the lip & punctured
                  the plastic seal with the pointed straw,
stirring up all the tapioca pearls, & she

                  broke the donut in half to get right
          to the sweetest part, & the coffin closed,
& a little sensor came on, & like the last wave
                  of a choir director’s hand, all at once
the voices went dark.


Dr. T. Dallas Saylor (he/they) holds a PhD from Florida State University and an MFA from the University of Houston. His work meditates on the body, especially gender and sexuality, against physical, spiritual, and digital landscapes. He currently lives in Denver, CO. He is the author of one poetry collection entitled Starfish, published by Glass Lyre Press in 2025, & his work is on Twitter: @dallas_saylor.

Primary Sidebar

Connect with NOR

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Twitter

Call for Submissions

Call for submissions for biannual issues and ongoing column of Palestinian voices. Learn more and submit your work here.

Latest Book Review

Museum of the Soon to Depart

reviewed by Adedayo Agarau

VISIT THE BOOK REVIEW ARCHIVE

New Orleans Review is delighted to announce the publication of its first book, Interviews from the Edge: 50 Years of Conversations about Writing and Resistance
(Bloomsbury 2019).

Visit the Digital Archive of NOR Print Issues, 1968-2019

Footer

  • About
  • Current
  • Archive
  • Submit
  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
Loyola University logo
The opinions of our contributors do not represent Loyola University New Orleans as a whole.
Copyright © 2026 · New Orleans Review
title illustration by Guen Montgomery · site by MJG