MY SWANS WHEEL AWAY

[after the manner of Hans Christian Andersen]

my swans wheel away

in disbelief:
could I be theirs?

I mourn in the mirror of the

skies, perfecting my reflection
in dismay

quaking in the clear pearl shadows

of their going

my swans turn away

from my frank, happy question:
"is it you?"

incapable of reply


so lofty, made of snow,
but hard;


even in blue-bell decked

midsommer, never melting-

pleased with one another

preening the crystal feathers;
out of reach, like stars-

they shine and blur

or is it only water that's
so dazzling

and can't be called back.

it's only I-

am sobbing "clouds on clouds"

drifting further than could be expected -

(all-in-all)


and won't be comforted

by any tribes now-

mary angela douglas 22 july 2010









*poems references are of course to Hans Christian Anderson's The Ugly Duckling and represent a kind of alternative ending, or maybe it's a case of the false swans before the true (appearing).