Le partisan

When they poured across the border
I was cautioned to surrender
This I could not do
I took my gun and vanished.
I have changed my name so often
I've lost my wife and children
But I have many friends
And some of them are with me
An old woman gave us shelter
Kept us hidden in the garret
Then the soldiers came
She died without a whisper
There were three of us this morning
I'm the only one this evening
But I must go on
The frontiers are my prison
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing
Through the graves the wind is blowing
Freedom soon will come
Then we'll come from the shadows
Les Allemands étaient chez moi
Ils me dirent, "résigne toi"
Mais je n'ai pas peur
J'ai repris mon âme
J'ai changé cent fois de nom
J'ai perdu femme et enfants
Mais j'ai tant d'amis
J'ai la France entière
Un vieil homme dans un grenier
Pour la nuit nous a caché
Les Allemands l'ont pris
Il est mort sans surprise
Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing
Through the graves the wind is blowing
Freedom soon will come
Then we'll come from the shadows


-Leonard Cohen

Cheongomabi / 천고마비

Proof of goodness in the world: an October afternoon, jujubes ripening,
the faint edge of chaste green on their ruddy cheeks. Such a color.
Not crimson, not scarlet, certainly not vermilion. Perhaps red ochre,
derived from hematite, a dusty, bloody red, oldest of pigments.
See: a hand negative on a cave wall, an ox, paint blown through bone.
Once my menstrual blood left the the shape of a crane, one wing extended,
the other half folded, on a white towel. Once I thought I would never
have a baby. Today, the sky is high, the horses are sleek with autumn fat.
I crave cold noodles in broth and fresh chestnuts. My belly has yet to show.

-Hyejung Kook

Leda, no Swan

Where I'm not given a complaisant smirk
my mouth might be a slightly startler "O" - 
a half a 'no' that needn't count as No. 
You will deduce he didn't have to work
so very hard, to part my pretty legs.
His curving neck, my curving arm, his beak
in almost a caress against my cheek - 

no, this is not a scene, you'll say, that begs 
use of the hard word Rape. Where is the rape?
Look how the gentrle victim's dreamy eyes
register nothing more than 'vague' surprise;
those limbs suggest no effort at escape.
Ever been frightened by an animal?
Ever get knocked, sprawling flar on your back
in the senseless impact of brute attack?
Ever been winded, and hysterical?

Wings that could break your arm thrashing your chest, 
a black bill hissing in your eyes, obscene,
inhuman, spitting noises that can mean
nothing but let-me-get-it-in; you, pressed
with the weight of a foreign body on 
your guts, clammy webbed feet scrabbling to get
a purchase; two or three rough jerks; a jet
of alien slime
                                                       Don't get raped by a swan.

That's my advice. They said he was divine,
when they found me retching myself inside
out, afterwards, throwing up as if I'd 
never stop. They said, treat it as a sign 
of enviable favour. You're a myth,
now, they said; try to behave like one. Though
what I always wished, if you want to know,
was that I'd had something to hurt him with. 



                                                             - Eleanor Brown