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PoetryMay 21, 2013

Swans

Photography by Aiez Mirza

Photography by Aiez Mirza

Strange how the swans did not return

to the lake that June,

almost as if they knew something

the rest of us did not –

some savage instinct or glorious flaw

christened and drowning in the water.

 

Their nests had been plucked clean, deflowered –

the eggs all gone,

the water choked thick and spiteful

with weeds.

The dock stood as always – knee deep in reeds

and apathy, the bald wood

showing its age and wobbling.

 

The tide brought its witness –

the wide, yellow maw of pollen

forbidding the surface to move.

You stood on the shore and poked

the sand with a stick as if expecting

it to to get up and walk away and surprised

when it did not make a sound.

 

I wondered what you were thinking

while you stared out over the water,

holding your breath like a bucket of stones.

Your lips never moved but I could hear

you talking –

blithe and unseen sounds nestling

in the crater of late afternoon.

 

And the kites kept their distance

all summer, never noticing the mercury

bursting from the thermometers or how

the wind kept changing its direction,

just biding their own time as the months

wore out their brief welcome.

 

~ Brendan Sullivan

 

Brendan Sullivan is a lifelong beach bum who has turned from acting to poetry. His work has been published at Wordsmiths, The Missing Slate, Every Writer’s Resource, Gutter Eloquence, A Sharp Piece of Awesome, After Tournier, Bareback Magazine and Bare Hands. 

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One last love letter...

April 24, 2021

It has taken us some time and patience to come to this decision. TMS would not have seen the success that it did without our readers and the tireless team that ran the magazine for the better part of eight years.

But… all good things must come to an end, especially when we look at the ever-expanding art and literary landscape in Pakistan, the country of the magazine’s birth.

We are amazed and proud of what the next generation of creators are working with, the themes they are featuring, and their inclusivity in the diversity of voices they are publishing. When TMS began, this was the world we envisioned…

Though the magazine has closed and our submissions shuttered, this website will remain open for the foreseeable future as an archive of the great work we published and the astounding collection of diverse voices we were privileged to feature.

If, however, someone is interested in picking up the baton, please email Maryam Piracha, the editor, at maryamp@themissingslate.com.

Farewell, fam! It’s been quite a ride.

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