Sitting on the bench they stare at the lake
oval mirror enclosed by rocks and shores
blue shades incessantly moving
Tiny waves appearing and vanishing
on the surface
draw lines creasing the blue.
Seams are done
Seagulls, boats of all sorts
punctuate the distance
like delicate sequins
Ducks, swans, ducklings
move smoothly in angled formations.
When they turn
coming resolutely ashore
behind them the water splits open
Watching, watching it all
they sit still.
Tears are in the eyes of the mother:
she heard something naughty
a daughter shouldn’t have said.
But the daughter hears a scream
coming from the sky
sinking down to the crater’s bottom.
She feels a distant pain
like the sorrow of countless souls
including her own.
While the sun keeps shining
wind breathes through:
mother’s tears dry up on her lined cheeks.
And the ducks
with an elegant curve
Toti O’Brien’s work has appeared in Literary Mama, Adanna, The Harpoon Review and Litro NY among other journals. She has contributed for a decade to various Italian magazines.
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