Ghosts of Love

And when she calls, he’s ready, set to go,
And when he comes, she’s there, prepared to give
Her lips, the world, their universe – although
She gives him all, he cannot all forgive.
She stands inside the threshold of her house,
The door’s ajar, the iron gate’s unlocked;
He floats upon the wind, a flying mouse,
With dreams, full moons and kisses to concoct.
And their embraces just inside the door
Below the moon, within a midnight dream,
Give nothing other than their more and more
Until, at last, all ends with dark’s extreme.
It’s then, at dawn, that he remembers that
If he’s the mouse, then she’s the toothsome cat.

Leda Waiting

Fair Leda waits for her beaked king’s advance
Within her palace on her silky bed
Or draped in moonlight and the moon’s romance
Hard by a lake or river heaven fed –
Or dark in forest and its dappling shield
Where fairies play on branch or swaying leaf
With all the magic of their queen revealed
While her white king comes as a changeling thief –
Or as her supper in a covered dish
That, lifted, shows his tender flesh to her
That, after many kisses, to her wish,
Consumed within an orgiastic blur,
Waits nascent for her mouth to call again
To room or shoreline, wood or dish domain.