Ray Osborn
The Swans on a Sandbar
ISSUE 65 | LEATHER | JUN 2016
For Alice Alsup
June 26, 1990 June 9, 2014
How unbeautiful
that they do not fly or glide across the water, against the current, easy as standing still.
But they stand still on this desert oasis.
They have found peace on the sandbar, away
from the unpredictable pull of current and tide water still like icy sheets
taunting of hungers unfulfilled.
I don’t blame them, for they are beautiful, and somehow manage symmetry in fives.
The chintzy one in the middle insists on distance,
she must be seen,
she must be free to fold
and unfold those wings as if swelling brassy.
Sometimes I wish I were watching you as this swan. The two of you
would have circled the world countless times if only to prove you could, with ease,
bringing back quiet wisdom of a rowdy love.
If only to come back. So that you could rest on the sandbar, serene,
as one regal soul flaunting recognition.
This will not be your last swan song.