The Lute Swan

Each dramatic feather a plectrum
the long neck arranging into octaves
and chrysanthemums a sonata afloat
Hidden in such a culmination a secret
that despite the genius of phylogeny
it is as yet pedal driven

Remorse

Our animals  their short lives
and those we shorten for them
for our own sad reasons
because we cannot see them
as we see our own  we say
in our minds this is dinner
and this is our calf Brown Eyes
Yes we speak in our minds
Our voices hang in our bodies
like a god in space  It is all we do
in there  talk and remember

Poet and visual artist, Allan Peterson’s most recent book is This Luminous, New and Selected Poems, (Panhandler Books) Some other titles include Precarious (42 Miles Press); All the Lavish in Common (Juniper Prize, U Mass Press); and Fragile Acts (McSweeney’s), a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. He lives and writes in Oregon. Learn more about his past and current projects at www.allanpeterson.net

Published July 15 2022