The swan swooped
and sent my mother staggering
away from the light and into floral corners
where he could clasp her with wings.

Found grounded, trembling, stunned,
she hadn’t called for help.
Leda beneath the swan sprawled
on the sidewalk in silence.  

Fear is a muzzle, and terror ketamine.
My frantic hands could not subdue
the beating bird
whose beak pummeled her breast.

White feathers floated, an out of season snow chilled me
when I tried to save my mother.  

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