allan peterson 2

AFTER DISTRACTION

We have broad fascinations, some long distance:

storm clouds, phone sex, diamonds in the light. 

When she mentions swans, she arches her neck

and the five threatening clouds lengthen before me. 

If I watch without letup they seem the same. 

But if I look away to write and look back suddenly

the swans are missing, a coach and four in their places, 

or something unlikely: leafless trees by the Azov Sea, 

the urgent pleading voice saying whoa to the wheels 

slowly now slowly the river wiping its face.