Leda in a Nightclub

I knew the story of Leda and Zeus, and that it was rape.
I studied it at twelve years old after seeing a painting in Italy
of their confusing union.
Leda’s body looked full like a milk trough, and curved like milk out of a jug
The way she held the swan pulled on me. Her grip on the creature
Desire like a mango blossom, a flail chest, like three horse whips
working at once
She seemed so unashamed of her body. So, I began to imagine being with Leda
With Leda in a nightclub, us in leather pants, her with no top on. We wave
sparklers, the lights go on & off & on again
Her face like lightning over a lake
I imagined telling Leda I love her
Leda laughs, pedaling the red bike ahead
Magenta petals, blue basket, bit of ribbon in her hair
We are together in a field & she appears full, her round body naked
Ready pears in her basket make a noise you can imagine easily
But Leda would eventually grow tired.
Or I imagined she would
Leda, I might say, riding behind her, I miss you
Leda would stop her bike and turn, one naked foot on the earth,
Bridget, I’m right here.