‘In a shed out the back of seventy one
she hammered bird shapes from metal
for business and fun. Sparked feathers
became an impossible swan; trumpeter
black from raincloud of iron.’
I recalled these lines from an earlier scene…
and thought, I’d play him now almost the same.
The same, but slightly differently –
in a way I couldn’t have done then.
And maybe, she would have smithed flamingoes
or herons, in a shed out the back of seventy one.
*
the impossible swan shit haiku
i wash cutlery
i watch rainwater on glass
i whisper that past

the pass
enger sid
e. howl we roll x
the impossible swan shit lol nice
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLike
This is fantastic. So many wonderful lines.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Excellent.
LikeLiked by 2 people
The haiku 👍
Lol
LikeLiked by 1 person