Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?
Katharyn Machan- Leda’s Sister and the Geese
All the boys always wanted her, so
it was no surprise about the swan
man, god, whatever he was. That day
I was stuck at home, as usual, while
she got to moon around the lake
supposedly picking lilies for dye. Think I
would have let some pair of wings catch me,
bury me under the weight of the sky?
She came home whimpering, whined out
the whole story, said she was "sore afraid"
she'd got pregnant. Hunh. "Sore"
I'll bet, the size she described, and
pregnant figures; no guess who'll get
to help her with the kid or, Hera forbid,
more than one (twins run in our damned
family). "Never you mind, dear," Mother said.
"Your sister will take on your chores."
Sure. As though I wasn't already doing
twice as many of my own. So now
I clean, I spin, I weave, I bake,
fling crusts to feed these birds I wish
to Hades every day; while she sits smug
in a wicker chair, and eats sweetmeats,
and combs and combs that ratty golden hair.
This one was just for fun. An answer to Leda and the Swan. LOL.