by Jerry Ratch
Leda looks back over her shoulder at us as the swan
grips her from behind while at the same time nipping at
the nape of her neck. She's a freckled child and
a little frightened. There's a dark smudge beneath her eye
where the shadow runs. The swan won't stop
and won't hear of it. His long neck arched over her
back and head, and long wings spread out covering
most of her from behind as she looks over her
shoulder with the damp hair swept back behind her ear
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from my book LIGHT.
painting by Paul Gauguin
I sense some terror in here. Once I had a parakeet on my shoulder biting at my ear and cheek and I couldn't shake the bastard off.
This is a great poem. I feel Leda.