We are
a lamentation of swans-
singing our last song
of war:
we’re staying afloat-
our home is a boat
bobbing on the waves
in a dance of death-
we are afraid
our dream is pieced
by the keeper of peace
of a heartily belligerent shore—
we are afraid
we are letting
our hands and feet,
our throats and lips
go winter
Posted for dVerse Meeting the bar: Irony hosted by Frank Hubeny
sumanar/lekha 
