The Broken-Necked Swan

The swan with a broken neck

lies half-in, half-out of the water.

Yesterday, hissing, spread-winged,

she ran at a child who stumbled backward and fell.

The bird then returned, stately and gorgeous,

to its pond, calm and fine as Fourth of July morning.

A man wearing wet shoes sits silently nearby.

Someone has already called police.

_________

for my BFF's flash 55 party.

Life With Super Zac

Zacky pees on the computer room carpet. Again.

"Zacky, what did you DO?" I ask, pointing. Zacky says raccoons came in and did that. Zacky says it rained last night, just in that one spot. Indoors. Zacky says maybe it is oil bubbling up through the floor and we are rich.

"It isn't black, and it smells like pee."

Zacky calls 1-800-MIKE-WINS. Mike Morse, attorney at law, petitions the court for carpet samples, lab reports, camera footage (if any) and lines up character witnesses. As Zac's mom, I am asked to testify on his behalf, which is awkward.

Zac goes on Oprah and says his mom is mean for no reason, blaming him for what the raccoons did. The audience gasps. There are hugs and tears. Oprah gives everyone in the audience a chew bone, hidden under their seat. 

"Zacky, PLEASE. Just stop peeing in the computer room!"

"I wuz framed!" maintains Zacky from behind bars. He has to wear a little striped prison outfit and he plays the harmonica so sad it breaks the guards' hearts. They let him out. He comes home and pees on the computer room floor. Again.

"ZACKY!!!!!!!!" (chase ensues.) Zacky is very fast. He laughs as he runs. 

Maybe it really was raccoons. 

"C'mere, Zacky," I say. He jumps up in my lap and chews one of my hands as I pet him with the other. "Who's a good boy?" I say, giving him a kiss on his noggin. "Who's such a sweet smart wonderful boy?" Well duh, mom. (He holds these truths to be self-evident.)

I hope there are no more raccoons.