Tuesday, November 14, 2006
"Lydia and the Swans That Come Round"
Her soul is dark
She pins her dreams out on a clothesline
waiting for the sun to meet her in a closet
to revive unread plans.
I think she wore a jasmine in her hair
the last time that I saw her.
I can't remember.
I do remember that the swans came round
for not accepting second chances.
Lydia had a box of sequins
that she kept inside her pocket.
She was seen sewing them to the moon
and making requests for sainthood.
I stood there in the glow
and admired her confidence.
I felt jealous of her travels
and her boldness.
She told me later that she saw me
standing in the doorway.
I did not tell her I was waiting for approval.
I keep in contact with her
now and then.
I ask her what to wear
and music she has heard
that I might like.
She always tells me I look best in lavender
but I know that isn't true.
I lost her trust many years ago.
We met at a train station
went on a journey.
We had intentions of creating fresh stories
new swan songs.
Well... she did at least.
I was haunted by a confined mind.
I could not think beyond the mermaid
she held captured in a jar.
I guess I related too much.
I could only think of how to free her.
It doesn't really matter
I say that to myself
as I unfold and refold
the pieces of art we made together.
Lydia's eyes are even darker now
that's the rumor.
Yet I will always admire her
and her quest to capture sparrows
unlocked by wings of depraved
but well meaning caretakers.
Lydia claims she means to heal them.
And the mermaid?
She traveled well.
I bring her jasmine in the summer
and gifts of chocolate and green tea.
I keep sequins in the jar she came in
reminding me of train stations
words that could not find their way
and swans that come round.