Palettal Prose: Black Swan Flight

I couldn’t find the actual title of this piece…

We are black swans

the women who swim.

Who fly at night.

Our golden feet touch

quiet water, skim

shining surface, plunge deep

to make currents in dark weeds.

We come and go.

We know each other’s

names, each other’s dreams;

we dream each other.

Dream the fight

past ragged moon,

past singing stars,

and it comes true.

Dream the telling,

the shapes of rain

and frogs and light,

and it comes true.

We are the wings.

We reach for wind

and make it ours;

we become the wind.

Our words are swan words,

black and full.

We go distances,

return, endure.

-Katharyn Howd Machan 1982

Black Swan

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