Twelve Swallows, Seven Hundred Daughters
dreamed 1972/10/14 by Wayan
The grimoire's spell for flight begins
"Kill ten swallows..." No! Instead
in the deep wood, I lure twelve in,
weave and merge them, living--
and I'm the thirteenth thread!
We fuse into a swallow-winged
Some human fool abducts her!
That night as we doze in camp, a thief
a small brass screw-cap, one of four.
"Why'd you do it?" He answers, sad:
"For my seven hundred daughters."
Whoa. That must be hard.
I swallow-soar to an icefield,
and snowshoe-skate (surreal!) across.
We meet the Princess of the Reef,
But I know what I loved: becoming bird.
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