A ten year old girl gave birth to a black swan,
a dead priest resurrected.
The first living thing the swan saw
was a weasel, and it took up residence in a dusty burrow under the porch,
behind the broken latticework.
From there, it flew out at passersby
with a great explosion of feathers and hatred.
It liked to ride on the back of its father,
making declamations about the nature of love
while depicting the hand of God in bird shit down its father's coat.
The swan was elevated to high position
and saw to it that the girl was punished in accordance
with Old Testament teaching.
It was really a vulture, its father a demon,
but it ate well, fathered a numberless flock, and was well-respected
by those who wore its symbol, carried its banner, and aped its empty fury.
__________________
for Sunday Muse # 226.
Music: Jethro Tull "Song For Jeffrey"
This feels like a dark fairy tale or horror story but something tells me it is much more real than that in metaphor. The closing lines are especially powerful and also haunting. You never disappoint my friend! I always look forward to reading your poetry!
ReplyDeleteDark and unsettling - scary who some people will follow.
ReplyDeleteOh, let's play follow the leader ... down, down, down to the gates of Hell. A cautionary tale.
ReplyDeleteI felt the same - this poem reads like a dark fairy tale. You wrote the mood intensely, and so well.
ReplyDeleteHoly s*t! I love where you went with this Well, OK, pretty dark. But still. I had a similarly dark reaction to this image, might still write that.
ReplyDeleteThat was me, qbit. Not sure why I'm getting bumped to anonymous.
ReplyDeleteFeel that all around these days, from the buzzards on the streetlights to the voices on the news.
ReplyDeleteDark Fairy Tale is exactly right... This is incredibly creepy, Shay - you've written to the prompt masterfully once again.
ReplyDelete~David
Dark and haunting imagery. It had me on edge a bit, well written.
ReplyDelete