on a glass pond the silver swan
dips its head and swallows tiny iron fish
quick, jerking gulps
someone carved each feather
with forgotten techniques
and the bird winds down
over decades, gears
growing blunt-edged
and bent
I put you on a pedestal
where no rust could touch
nor careless child crush
or crack
did you thank me?
no, your breath—scented with the finest
lubricating oil—mutters the air
like flocks of migrant geese
in an ugly mood
you threaten to jump
batter the sky with cold fists
of copper
what is love
but protection, worship, infinite
solicitude for a partner
held captive by the slow decay
of gear and piston?
I know
how time wears down even the bravest
you need not accept tremors
of metal and glass as fate—
I will make you safe, unchanged
by whatever death makes of our kind
the swan grinds to a halt, beak
caught halfway open and iron fish
out of reach
mortals wind
its key as springs tick and tremble
within, the metal circulatory system
beating like your fists
its stubborn gears frozen
like you on your marble plinth
something glints in its onyx eyes
not malice but an implacable truth
a pause
a falter
a shattering disappointment
hidden beneath a silver breast
© 2020 Jennifer Crow
Jennifer Crow is grateful for friends whose words, artwork, and photography inspire both poetry and hope. Her work has appeared in a number of print and electronic venues over the years, most recently in Not One of Us, The Wondrous Real, and Abyss & Apex. You can find out more about her current projects by following @writerjencrow on Twitter.