Swans?

All I know are tall white ducks

By K.B. Silver Published about a year ago • 1 min read

wrinkled and plucked

born in the moonlit Autumn

left behind too young

to move or migrate

fallen, starving from an empty nest

scrounging for potatoes

left in the ice-bitten

hoof-trampled field

slowly my glistening

white plumage grew in

instantaneously

my bugs were features

every mistake and mutation

explicable as a swan

in a pond of confused ducks

K.B. Silver

K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.

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