Leda and the Heartless Poet

Her life destroyed: the great wings beating still

Her scream lost in the miles of vacant air, her thighs caressed

Her will ignored, her nape caught in his bill,

His clawed webs pierced her fair skin and held her helpless abreast.

Her terrified fingers unable to push his mass.

The feathered glory threw his head back in delight while

Her head fell forward in a writhing blur.

Look her in the eye and you will see nothing

A never-ending glance thrown over her shoulder

A stiff core she’ll disguise as bluffing

Halved with no closure

His indifference crushing.

Yet I

Use this for my personal gain.

Paint letters across parchment that mean nothing to me

Yet will acclaim me.

I use her pain

To maintain pain

And perpetuate pain.

My brush strokes filled with brute blood

And power to change.

But I,

I Say Nothing.

Response to Leda and the Swan by WB Yeats