Mirror-Lake

After Leda and the Swan

She’s
Lashes; tail-flicking
Cashing-in on the cock
of a swan-head – a bill in her direction
malted teaser, he sees her
and takes; plucks her
clean

She’s
Crossed; he came
Across a lost child, prayers
Skirting her lips in rich O’s, unknows
The stark revere of the flinch
Of crossed legs. Biting,
Her necklace
Snaps

At The Swan

After Leda and the Swan

Pith on each edge of each mouth in The Swan

approaching as your lashes

tail-flick.

Seasoned, thin

Skirted, you secretly think you

can take anything these days. You’ve been

shrinking

thinner through the decades,

and still spitting

feathers. Then I take-

Quick

A drink? Scotch;

Cutty Sark, then you

Limp, listening.

Followed,

you blush and

you kneel and you

grin to recall:

Flapping.