Crawling, clawing from thedeep.I swam to shore to find the peeledskin of an orange;I ground the dirt-flecked rind with my teeth.sand crunching bone until i saw white.

(We made boats of orange halves and toothpick mastswhen we were children.Sneaked awayto the swamp.To feel what it was liketo flutterone’s eyelashesagainst another’s cheek. Beforethe dark Mud King stole meunder.)

A swan in the rushes caughtmy eye.I leapt, to find only feathers and skin.But this I used for my escape,a cape wrapped round my shoulders.I flapped the wings.they bore me up.I stretched for the sun, wished it to strike me blind.Mud caked, bakedfroze on my face what certainly was not a smile.

I was your swan, ballerina, fairy princess. Youleft me there to drown,never knowing—the Swamp King, a man of mud and rock. Whonever tasted bittersweet citrus pooling on his tongue froman orange gutted,sucked dry,took me for a bridebeneath the murky waterswhen you fled the flooded marsh.

And Imermaid, swan-girl, princess of orange rindI come on the wind in muddy feathersto drain the blood from your reckless cheek.

Swan Princess by Kristina May