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Swan Song

from The Way We Were by Matthew Leger

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about

based on a poem of mine entitled "Plastic Mountains"; originally published in CARE (www.carecovidartresource.com).
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Here with Summer
I am watching a child vomit
marbles on an empty carousel. 
Since the sickness came,
the theme park my dad would wake 
up early for looks like a broken chain
around a clenched neck. I must confess:
it is spring & I am stuck
in the apartment
of my head. 

We are no longer to leave the house. 
My desk is crusting into sandpaper
& my neighbor hacks up golf balls
in the shower. I worship steam walls 
lysol & think about the putt putt course 
with plastic mountains, my burning palms 
gripping an emissary of germs. I think of 
my father, missing a day of work for me 
& of all the fathers now furloughed. 

Things are beginning to blur.
With bulging chests, grackles 
are perched callously shitting 
cotton candy on my car.  
The evening grins stupidly 
as a bruised clown, 
& I am sure a cataract of beer 
is gushing down the mountain 
gutters as teenagers slur
Somebody’s gotta pull Summer 
outta the rushes, motherfucker

& maybe they have a point:
the pedal boat swans 
are on hunger strike;
their cage too big & blue to elude, 
it’s like I'm always flying downwards
they croak, heads sagging lower by 
the day; yet there’s been reports of 
flapping, a beautiful clamor 
in the early morning hours 
from construction workers,
discounted by the local news
as their hardhats have grown 
too heavy to use & besides
strikes aren't like coughs, 
they have a tendency to spread 
if covered. With chafed elbows,
I sit here with Summer, 
watching cellophane sprout 
out the crests of plastic mountains. 

lyrics

the pedal boat swans 
are on hunger strike
their cage too big & blue 
to elude, 
it’s like i'm always flying downwards
they say, 
heads sagging lower by the day

yet there’s been reports of 
a beautiful clamor 
in the early morning hours 
by construction workers
discounted by local news
cuz hardhats have grown 
too heavy to use & besides 
strikes aren't like coughs, 
they have a tendency 
to spread if covered

on my bed I sit here with Summer, 
holdin her some water
watching cellophane sprout 
from the crests of plastic mountains
by the interstate out west 

i am sure a cataract of beer 
gushes down the gutters 
as teenagers slur about how
somebody’s gotta pull Summer 
out the rushes

i confess:
it is spring & i am stuck
in the apartment
of my head
thinkin about
what comes next

credits

from The Way We Were, released April 16, 2021

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Matthew Leger Austin, Texas

quickly aging here

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