I think I've
found your secret
that
nobody knows.

You're Pavlova.

you belong on a stage
ordained
in sequins,
wing-tipped eyes
and paper wings,
where the violin
becomes your muscle
and the bow becomes
your strings

and when you go,
when you die,
when you pass as
all swans do,
the spotlight
will caress
all of the stages
where you're not

and you'll come back as
you again
Pavlova again
a dancer who loves all the swans again
and I'll be back in this life
to love you too.