As
Leda By
now it’s as if you never were here
grasping me like the swan enfolded Leda
in a cloak of feathered rage
hands hard on my shoulders and nape,
calamitous as the large bird’s beating white wings
thundering about me
assimilating me to yourself then expelling me
gently but firmly.
Twisted in some rococo pose,
eyes heavenward, I await your splitting touch,
which drives this torment of want from me
for moments at a time.
Imagine me, bloody-thighed, shattered with wonder,
obedient in the face of superior force.
I so want to feel you again: this craved force
no Annunciation, no rape. |
