The swan
Leda
you can
turn away
rage against
the beak
grasp it
hit with
your free
fist it
in the head
hard harder
the wings
rip the feathers
off with
your fingers
like plucking
a chicken
drive it
back
to where
it came
where
it belongs
no mortal
realm
of being
of flesh
of feeling
for winged fake
Leda you
stronger
than its illusion
of power
of feathered form
send it to Olympus
18.-25.05.2026
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