| Whatever hid the sun and moon inside a mountain brought people there to found the night where a city swans on river water laving with light each passing wake, mesmerizing a couple on the riverbrink. They seem unaware what is myth or real, taken up, as it were, by a swan’s bill and flown to a milkwater world where it’s possible to drink only the milk and eat pearls. A gunshot, a siren interrupts the quiet. Something is thrown into the river, then the swan is mute. To sing of this the swan would have to out-swan itself, Sibelius out-Sibelius Sibelius. Copyright © 2015 by Carol Frost. Used with permission of the author. |
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