Holding a Unicorn
A citrus-sprayed tin foil fire on
her band
Smoke rising from her perfectly
pale line.
With water leaking from her olive
eye,
Perhaps to accent her olive torso,
Where her ruby hangs from tiny gold
threads
Like those that gently curl out
from her head.
Velvet taped across her porcelain
trunk.
The seams are noticeable, where her
dress
Connects to her chest and her
sloped shoulders.
Lines are trenches-shadows of the
unknown,
And bulges of white reach out from
her arms
To meet the pear-shaped pearl in
her center.
Small difference in tone, perhaps a
gray shade
Where her companion sits, wailing
parades
Hooves each their own, yet
intertwined fingers
Sword protruding then just left to
linger
So close to the loop yet not close
enough
Perhaps set to spear the knot in
her chest.
Standing so tall in this distant
era
Certainly no power lines nor
windmills
Set far past the dunes in this
emerald land.
Even farther behind the mystery,
Tallest in the world, lower than
her chin
The gray streaked across,
connecting pillars.
The sun falling, just in reach of
the sill
Soaking in to whatever will take
it.
Other light illuminating her face
The patterns of light are not
aligning
For dark are the faces of what’s
behind,
Whispering and wondering why she
cries.
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