Volume 4 Number 1


I Woke This Morning

John Graber

I woke this morning with my hand on my neck,
my thumb on my pulse, and the pulse was the wings
of a swan beating down hard as she ran
across water into the wind, trying to take off,
and leave her lake of reeds behind for the south,

until suddenly the swan became, in black and white, 
a photo

of my sons, tanned and strong, next to my mother,
pale with silver, boy short hair, brave and shining
in the same sun that remarked with faint shadows
the lumps all over her face for three months more
of lifting from the water.  She is the swan in my veins.