some days i carry my basket of swans
to a lake and drown them
the feathers do not float no
the feathers will not stop floating
by afternoon they have made islands
of cotton
like ice turning cotton in his glass
and he keeps touching the rim
i keep carrying this basket
and the lake is drowsy with feathers
he swirls the glass and the cotton
of a thousand birds
in each room there are small wet rings
when he lifts his glass they appear
swan eyes blink from the water
everything is very still on its surface
his neck is not long or white
when i touch them everything goes limp
