fic, r e c i p e

[tailfeather]

Take a spoonful of brackish water,
it is for balance,
then a pinch of dried reed,
two cups of duckweed,
the algae growing on wet stones
and mix it with the dust
of a single tailfeather,
that is the perfume you will wear,
that is the odour with which you shall be
announced.

To the swan,
it will smell lovely
and hateful to the human,
but your fate is sealed now, they say,
and the nose picking up on your scent
will forever be your own.
You will love your element,

and you will hate that you love your element.