I remember all the times I saw
The Red Swans dance
Thousands of beribboned swords –
Whirling like restless birds
Trapped in too small a cage
That bends their feathers like a bow,
Ringing like the sirens of the moonlit sea
When they lure ships to doom
Lost in the heartbeat of hungry waves –
As they strike the shimmering air.
Their crooked feet were not to be seen
Beneath gowns of alien leaves
Woven with threads of unthought thought.
I first saw them dance outside our town
In the year of the rising viridian star.
Every year since they’ve danced
Beyond sight or sound of human lot.
Though I hear their music wild and fell
And sigh with longing at their mystic bells
I dare not venture from my bed
To dance with them that dance of death –
For I don’t doubt, though I’ll never say –
Not angels, they’re carrion birds of prey
Lured by imminent infant death
Which they seal by their own cursed breath
To take for their horde a soul turned dread
You ask how I know this?
Yet I see you staring at my crooked feet
And you’ve marked my sword and bells
That hang on yonder wall.
Now you know I’m one of them
I would pity your plight
Yet my door I cannot let you pass.
