Leda's Song

Leda’s Song The sky was grey, in uniform, And birthing bits of snow; Deserted by the man above For the act of love below. Leda shivered, her honey limbs Weren’t used to snowy weathers. She sighed and cosied up beside Her lover’s snowy feathers. Zeus awoke, his head a zoo, And licked his crusty beak. He blinked at Leda’s naked form Then pecked her on the cheek. “Morning babe,” he croaked, “and thanks For everything last night.” He stretched his royal wings and yawned And scratched his heavenly might. An eagle’s screech sent through him a quiver, “Look babe, I gotta rush,” And flapping away he called “Don’t worry, Us Gods, we keep in touch.” As he vanished Leda felt A rumbling between her legs. The rumbling stopped, she looked at the ground, And found she’d laid two eggs. Her belly felt hollow as the hull of a ship, Her breast, it swelled with pride. The brood were blue like a robin’s egg But half a metre wide. They shook, they cracked, they split apart And each revealed a twosome. The older pair lay strewn with shell In stillness, blue and gruesome. The younger two went stumbling off, Hollering for their Pa. Helen apparently went into politics; Pollux became a star. Leda gathered the tiny mess Of love and curtained violence And holding the bodies against her chest She trundled home in silence. Her father, sitting down to tea, Saw her at the door; He choked on half a dinner roll And dropped dead on the floor. Her mother flew up in a flurry And cried, “Look what you’ve done! Husbands don’t just grow on trees And that was my only one.” “Mamma,” said the girl, in tears, “Oh where’s my beautiful bird?” Her mother frowned and pursed her lips As if she hadn’t heard. She stuck her head beneath her dress, Prodding about and clucking, “That’s quite a hole you’ve got to fill, I suggest you get to digging.” Leda yelped and dropped her bundle, Fleeing towards the trees, Where all the beasts were waiting With their appetites and fleas. She ran and trampled autumn leaves, The pitted day receding, She ran until her breath was burnt And her feet were quietly bleeding. Suddenly she heard a voice, Furry about her knee caps, “Scuse me miss, you’re looking thirsty. Can I get you a drink perhaps?” The blushing sky was empty of The ruffled hymn of wings. Leda said to the waiting badger, “I’ll take what the evening brings.” The badger was an eager lover, Snuffling about and grunting, But she fell asleep before he’d found Whatever it was he was hunting. She woke alone and bedded in leaves And lay like death a while, Then rose and strode deep into the forest, Painting on a smile. She found a pigeon, known to most As Weasel of the Air. The feel of his feathers was love except For the parasites that grew there. A grizzled bear at a watering hole, Was keen to misbehave. He spent the better part of winter Asleep in a yawning cave. She left him for his rabbit friend Who was done in half a second. The sky began to softly cry And deeper forest beckoned. When she came upon the crow She thought she’d caught a break. But he winked and took off from his branch, Chasing a frightened snake. Two lizards, lying, caught her eye, Hissed one, “I likes to watch.” He settled himself on a rock while his buddy Scurried towards her crotch. Animals came and animals went, Some small and some of note. Her cries to Heaven were deadened by the No Decaying in her throat. She wandered, in time, to clearing where Zeus Was chatting up a mare. “Hey babe, it’s been a while,” he said. “I like what you’ve done with your hair.” She said, “I’ve dragged the rags of love Through half the fucking zoo. And now I’ve carried them, fleas and all, To bring them safe to you. “Listen babe, I think your swell,” Said Zeus, “but idleness rankles.” A rat sidled up to Leda slowly And sniffed about her ankles. “The world,” she wailed, “is full of very Little but useless pricks.” “Oh cry me a fucking river,” sighed Zeus. She cried the River Styx. She cried and buckling skies all shed Their stars in silver rain. The rat opened up and they ran down his gullet Like ants swept down a drain. “My dear,” the rodent whispered, grinning, “From afar I saw you coming. These Gods are nothing but window dressing, The real beauty is in the plumbing.” The girl sat down with a bump in the litter, And looked at Zeus, confused. The rat crawled up her leg and whispered, “Girly, you’ve been used.” Zeus said, “That rodent’s trouble Leda,” As he eyed the rat askance. “No more than you,” she whimpered And she unbuttoned her pants. A moment later her belly swelled up Then burst in a furry spout. She settled, a skin, on the forest floor As the last few trickled out. Zeus leapt up, but the rodents were quick And they tore that swan asunder. The rat scurried off with his brood in tow Through snow and dying thunder.