The Prey Bird

a Poem about Desire and Pain

The quick togetherness
Like a prey bird at a branch swooping down his treasure
and flying of again
between five and seven, and only on Tuesdays
no dinner ever taken
no words too much spoken
Only the digging
her hunger, the yearning, the screaming maiden
begging to be untied

her wound
the cliff deeper
the wound cutting deeper
the pain entering into the deep red now
The red of no return
The spreading open and exposure
right in between her wealth, her castle
next to the ponds with the two swans, the mirrors,

He is storming in like a knight
rushing in
Through the 500 year old wooden door
the crystal glasses with red wine
the soft sheepskin on the ground
the smell of wood, and fire, and candle
and warmth, perfection and lust,

He only reaches to my breasts, she told me
He is her therapist 
a bird with a sharp beak
In the rush
for the short moment
the pleasure the pain
the beast, the lion deep down in the den growling
the pleasure the pain, the pleasure

his big hands
the life
the buzzing
like bees and flowers
and all the animals released
The horses, butterflies 
sharks fish and birds,

And then.. the total absence
the retrieving of everything there was exposed
the collapsing of metal of gates,of cages, of chains and locks
more water in the pond, and the swans still on top
The darkness already enveloping
The shell shut again
the pain of the retreating
the pulling back

the thought of the six sisters
riding this same horse
fucked by this same man, each night another
dragging herself wanting to drown in the salt water
only holding on with two little fingers and
the hope for his return
holding on to the image of the swans
the softness of their feathers
Holding on to the love for all the animals in her heart
now letting out tears and tears and tears, 
the river to the pond is overflowing
the swans are still there

and now I feel her, like she is me
the squeeze, the dryness in my womb
the armor of needles, of knives 
no feather, no scale, no hair, no fur left
The flower garden in her heart, in my heart, with no place to blossom
and all creatures, lifeless.