I as Leda loved you,

we had read the myth,

with indecorum. With art,

nonaccord

censorial authentic fat

lawbreaker masterhood

untested pawn toughish unity

seemly heroicity merry smack

attacked, attached. Leda—

the stealth and unwashed date.

The feeling of picking up

Leda by your beak, that kind of weight,

imagined, deliriously changed,

is not unlike copying a large amount

of your words and having to remember

to paste them somewhere.