Leda

All day long I twisted
and turned
like a cat in heat
so my prayers were easy
and I was not surprised
at how quickly he came
with his hissing glide
across the smooth waters.
It was a sight all right—
the arc of his wing,
that snaking neck—
but there was no trick to it.
I always knew he'd pick
me, glib mortal
girl, target
for his flimsy passion.

How he flashed and preened.
It was laughable really,
that self-importance,
those ludicrous pinions
beating the air around me.
He was strong,
but I held him, breast
buttock and thigh
before brushing off
the sweat-stained feathers.
What these gods wouldn't give
for some solid flesh.

But still, I liked
his costume and anyway
it wasn't half bad
for a small devotion.

Copyright © 2004 Terry Blackhawk All rights reserved
from Body & Field
Michigan State University Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission