Random Acts of Poetry
Leda Forgets the Wings of the Swan -- Diane Keating
Your images shift around me.
Humpbacked and white
they resemble death.
Your eyes raise towers higher.
At the edge of the pond
your neck's a question mark.
My mouth opens to your fiery tongue
that I may be mute to the light,
my thighs for your pleasure
that angels may worship.
Dream Master, that I may find
who I am, let your flushed beak
tear at my heart and mind.
II
Blood must come before love.
To break the mirror
I break myself.
Astonished
I body out into wholeness,
reaching into the blue oracular air.
O halfmoon man, my scars ache.
Your images shift around me.
Humpbacked and white
they resemble death.
Your eyes raise towers higher.
At the edge of the pond
your neck's a question mark.
My mouth opens to your fiery tongue
that I may be mute to the light,
my thighs for your pleasure
that angels may worship.
Dream Master, that I may find
who I am, let your flushed beak
tear at my heart and mind.
II
Blood must come before love.
To break the mirror
I break myself.
Astonished
I body out into wholeness,
reaching into the blue oracular air.
O halfmoon man, my scars ache.