Philip Jason: The Swan


I.
i ask the woman next to me if she remembers
the mother that held her in the bardo as she
waited for the call to return to this world
she shakes her head

I make a swan with my hand and leave
its shadow on the wall

II.
we do not remember the moment in the womb
when our tiny hearts first caught fire
but the first time that fire felt unwanted
is all we ever talk about

I make a swan with my hand and leave
its shadow on the wall

III.
I make a swan with my hand and leave
its shadow on the wall

IV.
I make a swan with my hand and leave
its shadow on the wall

V.
sometimes it feels like the avenues we
walk on those smooth crescent shaped
avenues were built exclusively for the
people we want to be in our dreams in
the instant the magician or geneticist
gets us to look away from the obvious
they are both transcendent and lonely

a swan with
my hand

its shadow on the wall

VI.
i ask the woman next to me if she will
hold me in the bardo
our tiny hearts become swans

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