Imprinted

 

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"

Indolence

Indolence
is my new
enchantment,

with

redolence
of inveterate
insouciance.

When ice gets tired,
it slips out of its winter bones
and comes down April easy
on my sill where the flower box keeps.

Kiss me.
Why not?
They sell
indemnity for indiscretion
by the pick-up window at the exit door
of the local concession. 
______

Inscribed and intended for Flash 55 at Real Toads.