some days i carry my basket of swans
to a lake and drown them 

the feathers do not float       no
the feathers will not stop floating

by afternoon they have made islands
of cotton

like ice turning cotton in his glass 
and he keeps touching the rim

i keep carrying this basket
and the lake is drowsy with feathers 

he swirls the glass and the cotton
of a thousand birds 

in each room there are small wet rings
when he lifts his glass they appear 

swan eyes blink from the water
everything is very still on its surface

his neck is not long or white
when i touch them everything goes limp