Song of the Swans
The world has forever
outgrown itself,
its pants no longer fit
The cuffs too short,
the waist too tight,
its inseam worn and ripped
The fabric that
it used to grow,
lay barren in the field
The magic that
it used to show,
a sleight of hand reveal
The world has forever
outgrown itself,
its future running out
The earth exposed,
the sky on fire
—all life but hand to mouth
(Dreamsleep: March, 2022)
Copyright © Kurt Philip Behm | Year Posted 2022
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