Thursday, September 22, 2022

From the Prison Writing Project



There’s a swan,

Upon my lawn—

The scar above his eye,

Completes him like—

An exam.


One given by,

The Great Swan

In the sky


His Twin, 

Webbed feet

a furious blur—

They sprint like pestered squirrels about,

Focused on the task at hand. 


Both tasks above---

And below,

You know.


His beak will bend the water’s edge at times,

As it also bends the rules—

At times . . .

Arrows pin him into place, 

At times


I’m vexed in a cell,

By this well-worn bird,

His soliloquy his constant boast,

a lullaby of self reproach,

The reprimand he uses most,

So to this bird I raise a toast!