"Swans"
The birds greet me here, their necks outstretched
in love
But I hate them so
These swans, elegant always, white like sculptures
carved out of ice
Impervious to consciousness
Aware of their too-short lives
Swim, mate, birth, repeat, die or die trying
And I toss breadcrumbs into the water
I, with all this time to hurt
One lifts himself off the water
Flies low, slaps the surface away
He’s left behind a lady
Like it’s nothing to him at all
Like he did not look into her big black bird eyes
And quack, I have plans for you
No more fishing with your head underwater
No more showing off my feathers
Let’s mate for life
They wrap their necks around one another
(In my head)
And listen to the edges of the lake lap against ground
As it did long ago
Before me or the birds
As it will long after
there is no one left to hear
The quick, silky thop
To feel the gentle breeze
As for the birds, they interest me most
I have a thing or two to learn
From these simple, free
Jai-guru-deva-flapping things
that are much older than I.
"Foodie"
The Cuisine Fiend is famous.
The Cuisine Fiend exhibits her photos frequently, inhabits Instagram with artisan doughnuts.
The Cuisine Fiend posts exquisite photos, filtered, bird’s-eye with shadows. Then she races for the rear door, holds her hair in her hands, ex-cuisines the caviar, the lemon sorbet into the porcelain bowl, quite ladylike. Flush. Checks her phone. Already fourteen “likes.”
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