The Green Glass Swan I find her forgotten on an old thrift shop shelf, lit like a lantern in the late Texas sun— a small swan of green glass, etched in elegance, baptized in dust. The cool bowl of her body is made for my palm. The curved cup of my hand her safe harbor. Her green is my green, my longing, my undying, her hollowed out center my own. She lives with me now in these woods in this new town, is shy with my husband, speaks only to me. Come spring I will fill her with pine forest & wild aster, wood rose & thistle, buds gathered at dusk, rainwater brimming green sorrow, green song.
Robin Turner has recent work in The Fourth River, Bracken Magazine, One Art, and Ethel, and in the Haunted anthology (Porkbelly Press). A longtime community teaching artist in Dallas, she is now living in the Pineywoods of rural East Texas for a spell. She works with teen writers online.
Amethyst Review 