Cygnet
Your eyes bloomed wide
as you looked over the golden trim
of the dress circle
You drank each note of music
and demanded feathers to adorn your skin
i want to be a swan
you whispered
i want to fly,
can i fly?
your face shone pearl white when
i nodded
then scowled when it was suggested you
could be the prince
no, a swan, i have to be
a swan
so now, each night, you lift
yourself onto your toes; insist your freckles
are the buds of wings
you twist and turn and leap and reach
for the pull of the wind
soon
you will fly
Claire Hughes is a Birmingham-born writer who now lives in Staffordshire. She recently achieved her MA in Creative Writing from Lancaster University and was published in Oxford Brookes' anthology My teeth don't chew on shrapnel.