Paper Swans

by Heather Halcrow

He ran outside

In corduroy overalls that

Bagged at the knees,

Dragging behind him

Transparent dreams

Of color and light

To be pinned against a crepe-paper sky

With gusts of wind.

“Fly!” he commanded

And tugged fiercely at the string.

It jerked upwards

And, with a rustled sigh,

Fell.

It lay there—

A slash of fragile flesh

Exposing bamboo bone

Creaking stiffly in the wind.

He trudged back inside

With spit-polished face and dirty hands,

Dragging behind him

A tangled mess

Of paper and string

To be hauled away with the garbage

Next Monday morning.

Photography by V. Beth Scott

Photography by Bobbi Jane Rice