Swans & Ducks, Skating: November Rain
by Carolyn Srygley-Moore

At any time, I can return to your form as to a field
unfolding into a certain eternity; mallard ducks at dusk skating
the pond in circles around you, the point
at the center, amidst snowed-in houses. How

you would lie upon me like an anchor,
like a ballast of violets on a stage where language was
forbidden, & you would empty into me, & I was
a flower opening to the rain. The pulse of sky, the rain.

Perfection is hidden like that. An unreality,
so real when it occurs, like the photograph
of the eye, up close, of your eye, indeed, so close
I can see the visions driven behind it. Sketching

the structure of the human eye! Grass is stubble
pealing through new snowfall, almost
last year’s grass, a 5 o’clock shadow
the sun cannot restore to what the one-armed man
wants. As I recall swimming one morning

in the lake when the swans were sleeping
with the green-crowned ducks
& “splash” // a man with one leg entered, skipping
currents around him, of the faith

that confronts despair as the sunflower confronts
the light, not to follow it, no, but to demand why.

* * *

“Swans & Ducks, Skating: November Rain” (c) 2009 by Carolyn Srygley-Moore
all rights reserved, used with the poet’s permission

Carolyn Srygley-Moore
is a long-ago, award-winning graduate of the Johns Hopkins University
Writing Seminars. She has been a Pushcart nominee, widely published in
journals including Eclectica, Mimesis, Antioch, Stirring, & the antiwar anthology Cost of Freedom. Her digital chapbook Enough Light on the Dogwood is available at www.mimesispoetry.com. She lives in Upstate New York with her husband & daughter.