Our Black Swan

          Floats toward the edge

                                         of N







     e                                             Falls.

Pr ening and billing her plumage.

Beautiful in her introspection
indifferent to the path her breast
takes in the swift eddies and c   rrents.
Sheer inertia in the face of momentum.

The graceful arc of her neck drawn up
  in mock decree

our black swan’s orange beak
stands out like a traffic cone

  directing with nods and nudges
sidewise, likewise winking her beady eye.

Our black swan is exhausted
  a dirty dishrag wrung out.

Nevertheless sunlight reflects
from her obsidian feathers

     “Pray for a tomorrow
      Better than this.”
as she churns toward the turbulent edge.

We wait for the impetus
that ignites a nerve ending
in the wingtips of the doomed creature.
“Lift!” we say to ourselves.

“Lift and fly!” 

◄ Different Colors of Cats

God's Eye ►


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John Marks

Fri 7th Aug 2020 03:54

Drifting towards our fate. Maybe extend the POV to you?

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D.W. Hamilton

Wed 22nd Jul 2020 05:23


Nicola Beckett

Wed 22nd Jul 2020 04:35

Oh dear!!!

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