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