Written for The Sunday Muse #249

the dream by lara zankoul

sleep is not escape

for she plants
her webbed feet
on any sleeper’s stomach

sits like beauty
framed and sure
keeper of

feathered dreams
where muscles
wilt to nothing

and with wings
quite tundra pale
they sail 

and sail alike
dread's feet like paddles
in belly softness

and beyond
where windows wink
square black eyes

astrologers note
a peculiar
transit of Venus.

7 thoughts on “Dread

    1. Thanks for your honesty, John. The swan in the image was personifying dread. THat feeling of weight on your gut. Swans probably aren’t characteristically the form that dread takes in people’s minds but that was part of the challenge I set myself. I’ll definitely take your comment on board.


  1. There is a novel by Shirley Hazzard called “Transit of Venus” in which, if memory serves (I read it a lonnng time ago), two sisters have lost their parents who died when the boat they were aboard sank. The boat was called the Benbow, and it ends up being a metaphor for the things that scare each one of us, scar us, test us, and steep us in sorrow. Everyone has a Benbow, and your closing made me think of it.


    ps–we chose the same image! I didn’t get back on line until last night but I linked late to the Muse. Great minds think alike! 😛

    Liked by 1 person

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