11 – Unicorn
there’s a unicorn somewhere
that does not believe he exists
there’s a lost trapped in stasis
hoping the memory persists
the thing that reverberates still
the bell in the church at the top of the hill
the pheasant that’s trapped under glass hoping you can’t
resist
there’s a book in a universe
I don’t inhabit at all
an arguable premise
statistically valid but small
the thing
that’ll snap like a twig
the old man in
robes and a wig
deciding between
saints and sinners as if it’s his call
the saddest
thing I've ever seen
through mortal
man’s eyes
a butterfly covered in amber
still struggling
to fly
the audacious sadness of hope
drawn from the rack and the rope
not knowing
the logic of life is to lay down and die
there’s a
landscape of ghosts
that inhabit
this space I call me
the things
that I didn’t do
didn’t become
didn’t be
unable to laugh
at the moon
stretched thin like a human balloon
extruded into the cold digital sunshine
rendered and lit
and prepared
to be writ
in the book
of
your
life