As music curves through the body, the swing of it
lifting mind’s invisible feet, so it happened
a ballet I’d gone to in the days after breaking up
with someone who had found me rather clumsy
left behind a troupe of swans in my heart.
Now the inner band played on, a waltz as searing
as a light too brightly shining in a room that should be dark,
and the swans, pirouetting through the dark
and joyful moments of the plot, took my heart
dancing, till the grief that remained
turned to a mood of gentle swanning
through the fine, vacated ballroom of the mind;
till the swans evaporated with a cry.