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fraudulent perhaps in that they gave
no sense of muscle but a swollen langour
though moved by webs; yet idly, idly
as soap-bubbles drift from a clay-pipe
they mowed the lake in tapestry,
passing in regal exhaustion by us
king, queen and cygnets, one by one.
did one dare to remember other swans
in anecdotes of Gauguin or of Rabelais?
some became bolsters for the Greeks
some rubber Lohengrins provided comedy
the flapping of the wings excited Leda
the procession is over and what is now
alarming is more the mirror split
from end to end by the harsh clap
of the wooden beaks, than the empty space
which follows them about
stained by their whiteness when they pass
we sit like drunkards and inhale the swans
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Picturesque.
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just mercedes
Oct 19 3:11 PM
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