fic, p l u r a l

Water, she learns, is in the plural form.

No matter how many they amount to,
her swan maidens and she, swans remain
outnumbered by the lake,
uncountable.

fic, i

Not every move ends on a crescendo. Some roads extend into a softer note. The way to water sounds deceptively soft in your ears, the waves are kissing your feet now, human-like. She gets on eye level with the lake, the currents stealing her words, her final goodbye is heard by no one.

But the waterfowl, the waterfowl...

fic, d o w n

She is not a bird in the sense that birds are. They're not of the same species, the herons and the kingfishers. They're not the same, human hearts and owls.

Neither is she human in the sense that people are. They sleep in down-filled duvets, while she wakes up in feathers. He loves her only half the night, none of the day, when she has no breast he can lay his head on.

She is a bird insofar that she can give him down.

Woman insofar that she can make him want to lay his head on those instead.