Dream Catalogue – Entry 1

Pregnancy Dream 
I was lost
in a seething crowd
of breeding women
who sneered at me. 
My mother, milk-eyed,
the only one to help deliver it
like a parcel on a porch.
More like a planet
she said, made of lead and slop
that you have to push out
and send back into orbit.


A doctor showed me
a video of the baby
floating gently,
decaying and grey.

Transitional phase,
fear of responsibility,
deteriorating hopes.
A warning.
You are too indifferent.
A rejection of creativity.
Lying to yourself.


Gaining significant amounts of weight
and choosing in appropriate clothing. 
Bad timing.
Bad luck. 



Feast of rest,
crunch hormone,
transplant philatelist.


Lieutenant to self-starter,
lifespan to semitone.
Renaissance of crinoline. 
Badger tin.
Badger lullaby.
Washcloth, wallaby. 
Cult hotspot: cuckold hospital.
Galaxy silk. Trauma phoney. 
You are too blasphemy.
You are too bleak.
You are too bleat.
You are too bleeder.

Jennifer LoveGrove is the author of the Giller Prize longlisted novel Watch How We Walk, as well as two poetry collections: I Should Never Have Fired the Sentinel and The Dagger Between Her Teeth. She is working on a new book called Beautiful Children with Pet Foxes.

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