slide the arch
of a swan's neck
so gracefully, and
condense on my lips with
a delicacy only
an angel could ever assume,
but the swan's neck snapped and now she has
evaporated from my mouth for good
Hey Ben, Etheree is way too much for me! Just when I thought you had maxed out in your types of poems, you throw a strikeout curve ball. All the beautiful lines of the swan overshadow the Etheree style, but, together, bring a beautiful masterpiece, well done.
Added to my Favorites!
Ahh, I'm sure I'm not the only one who received shivers reading this. I agree about the gentle tone you set, the gracefulness you convey, then the harsh imagery. The sudden image (and imagined sound) of the swan's neck snapping, and the sadness I felt with that last line just sticks with the reader.
Something so delicate, so intimate, now lost or tainted. Now no longer bestowing such a presence, a gift.