The Swan

Hard rain

 April denial

 Cold wind

The river travels backwards

A heap of white at the rivers’ edge

Bound and lifeless

The unseen moon rises behind the clouds

Nothing good can come from this

It’s a bag

A bundle of plastic

It floated towards my shore

It chose my shore to rest

There to bundle itself

Disassembled in the wind

It’s a bag

Must be a bag

I watched from above

It wasn’t a bag

The wind blew it apart

An animal broken into it

Spewed it

It wasn’t a bag

It was murder

The rope still around its neck

The face hollow

Pristine its feathers rose in the breeze

“As if the wind breaks its lifeless bonds”

Murder

Sad

I wanted to bundle it

Make it into that bag

So it wouldn’t be what it was

No remedy

Murder

It came to my shore to show me

To witness the crime

Chose my shore to rest upon