A Happy Torpor

Posted on March 6, 2006 in Prose Arcana Satisfaction Uncertainty

The swan, fat from his migration to secret parts, splats on green waters where an armada of lily pads in scattered formation floats perfectly still. He pulls his neck to himself, a white gulper eel ready to spring except he pulls his neck into himself, corrodes his feathers into scales, forgets his feet, and dives to live among the other koi, sucking his sustenance from the moss-slick walls of the pond. So many problems are fixed for him: the weight of gravity and the grave problem of ridding his body of carbon dioxide in every breath. The dead air inside him just washes away.