Swans

Mark Thalman

A swan slides across a reflection of sky.
On the opposite bank, a tall, dark-haired man in a tuxedo
escorts his bride, who also glides like a beautiful bird
in her long white gown. They are having their reception
in the Dampier Chateau. I remember taking this photo
while the critical care nurse informs me
that the small transparent hoses inserted in my neck
are called “swan tubes.” They loop through
the jugular and down to heart and lungs
forming the shape of swans
to measure function and pressure,
administer medicine.

A day later, the nurse tells me to sit up straight,
take a deep breath, hold it, and stay very still—
same as an x-ray. Standing slightly behind me,
he pulls in one long steady motion . . .
wings lifting through my veins.

© Apple Valley Review