The Swans’ way
Let’s sit here on the river bank while we watch life pass us by. Let’s sit and watch beauty moving ahead in hordes of swans, in all their glory and sorrow. Let’s live in a black and white world, sitting here doing nothing except longing for furtive glances with the ones we have fallen in love with, whom we have never spoken to, our hair draped over our bony shoulders while the river sways for us.
The keys the keys, they taste like Monday morning — stale and foreboding. Let’s leave the piano playing for the living, for the ones who care little. Let’s forget we ever knew how to play, let’s forget we have an idea of it; let’s forget about everything except the staleness in our mouths.
Let’s become recluse and hide from the world. Let’s stain our fingers with soot so we will never have to play the piano again. Our fingers stained with black soot, let’s darken our cheeks and pretend we have been kissed by burly men with soot on their fingers as dark as the beards on their faces. Let’s pretend, there’s nothing else we can do but pretend. We weren’t always like this you know, no, not always.
Under the sun
Let’s lie in a field of poppies, under the heat of the summer sun. Let’s watch Ophelia’s pallor shimmer above water as her dress spreads wide. Let’s see if the flower hoarder drowns in lilies and hydrangeas.
We will stay here under the sun with our eyes closed, waiting for the light of the moon, thinking about youth, beauty and Keats, Keats, Keats — until we drown under the heavy soil.
Oh but we must stay, we must; we must stay for them to see our beauty, our youth, our pallor. Our eyes that have seen so much, they can go.
Story credit: Images courtesy of Magdalena Lutek- Nishe.