a brush of wind from above,
off a swan’s wings,
a night flyer
body blotting away the stars,
it’s
leering down at us, knowing
that we know
how it took the maiden and
rode her down the airs currents,
chests hammering like cannons,
a sudden, thrusting beak,
drops of her blood
speckling its length,
then planted seed deep
in her downy chest, seed that
gave birth to the sailors’ hope,
and sealed Ajax’s fate.
we walk, silent
shadows mingling on darkened pavement,
a hesitant hand, in shadow,
reaching, then faltering,
between the two of us…
our breath smoking the air,
our walls already shattered…
the Twins, cold in their silent orbit,
vow breakers,
give no comfort
to sailors on such seas as ours.
Writer Moe 