“Swans on Fire”


Her swans on fire she pictured on frosted glass
Told me they’re too beautiful to last
Must be someone else inside this room
When she talks on swans on fire
On a loom of circling jazz
Yeah, her swans on fire last
In someone else’s desire
In what was once my past

Her swans on fire forced to fly on command
Told me they’re too limitless to ever fly
If only by their will and by their song
Must be someone else to conduct their time
On a loom of winter clouds
Yeah, her swans on fire fly
In someone else’s eyes
In what was once my heart

She hung herself before the Christmas Eve
She cut herself in May, she drowned in June
Her swans on fire last, she murmurs deep
Behind the axe in hand, beyond the blue
On a wire of relief
Her swans on fire sleep
In someone else’s youth
In what was once a gift

Her swans on fire stumble through the thickets
Purge the world on feathers fallen down
Raising both their arms towards the sky
How very hers of them, how very far
On a loom of bargain mist
Yeah, her swans on fire dive
In someone else’s truth
In what was once her part

Copyright © 2008 by A.J. Kaufmann. All rights reserved.