Not So Strange a Sight, If You Think About It
The man with the stuffed unicorn
is no longer married.
He is mostly bald and a little fat.
The man, I mean.
The unicorn is pink and plush
with a single, white snowflake
in each of his coal black eyes,
and hooves that put you in mind
of mother of pearl.
He doesn’t look like
you would expect, really.
The unicorn, I mean.
He looks more like a hippopotamus
with a festive horn
than he does a magical stallion.
The man looks exactly
as you would expect:
Lost and weary.
The man with the stuffed unicorn
no longer has a child.
He was a late addition,
but that meant he was treasured
all the more.
The unicorn, I mean.
But you could say the same for the child,
if that’s what you want to talk about.
No one wants to talk about that, though.
His name was Samuel,
but no one ever wants
to talk about him at all.
His mother was Ruth.
The man with the unicorn’s mother, I mean.
Samuel’s mother was Lydia.
No one wants to talk about her, either.
The man with the stuffed unicorn
keeps walking. He keeps walking
until he is just gone.
No one notices.
The unicorn remains plush and beautiful,
and the man will not let him go,
but he will never have a home.
Horror Sleaze Trash 