The Swans and The Lily Pad.

Let me be your ugly duckling.
You can lick me, tend me, feed me
or kiss and nibble and scratch this tired flesh.
Oh God, 
slow.
Just light another cigarette for
I can feel you creeping under my skin.
My feathers are ruffled.
Don't push -
I can't
lose
this time.
My breathing is out of
control.
Human or swan?
Make my black feathers
change. Colour these plush feathers
with your long, white eraser.
Pull me from my contorted body
and roast me.
Oh God,
slow.
I slide from our lily pad,
hide in the corner
beneath the natural bushes
of your sullied clothes.
Just like the child,
it's sad but true.
You can lick me, tend me, feed me.
I am empty.
Mother me until I'm ready,
mother me until I can,
without shaking,
come back
to our own private,
soaking
lilypad.