Saturday, April 7, 2012

Leto




Of all my women memories of her still haunt me best
Images of her at night still keep me from my rest
She looked at me from over her laced fan with harlot’s eyes
Her smile was something feline her desire was undisguised
At first she feigned ignorance, then pretended she would fight
But then she cried out endlessly I knew that I was right
She was a lady and a whore yet there has been no other
Don’t you fret petit I’ll treat you right I used to know your mother

Hear the horses run
Feel the rain on your skin
The heat on your face is the dawn
The damp on your cheeks just the rain
Hear the night winds howl
They rage until your voice aches
Taste now the salt of the sea

Pretend that you’re someone who’s free

I remember well the candlelight upon her perfect skin
The shape and texture of her treasure as it called me in
I pulled the hairpins from her hair it fell from her in waves
Her heartbeat struck against my chest a thousand tiny staves
She fought against me for an hour I thought we’d both expire
Then she locked her legs around me and she set us both afire
She’s married since that day but I know part of her still yearns
Even more than I do for the day that I return

Hear his footsteps come
Feel his hands on your skin
The heat on your face is his breath
The damp is just what money buys
Hear the night winds howl
They rage until your back aches
Taste now the salt of the sea

Pretend that you’re someone who’s free

You’re the richest flower girl I know your rags are made of silk
You live rightly in the gutter with the mermaids and their ilk
I cross your palm with sterling and imagine my surprise
When I open up my present and you have your mother’s eyes
I lead you to the coach I hired and tell you it’s a game
The world may spin forever but some things remain the same
And later when the curtain falls I know I’ve made my choice
When you squeeze your mother’s eyes tight shut and cry out with her voice

Hear the horses run
Feel the rain on your skin
The heat on your face is the dawn
The damp on your cheeks just the rain
Hear the night winds howl
They rage until your voice aches
Taste now the salt of the sea

Pretend that you’re someone who’s free




--Coyote

(Photograph, Crying Rain, courtesy of photosandmemoirs@blogspot.com.  Photographs are exclusive property of their creators, all rights reserved.)

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