Black Moon

Published in Popshot Quarterly - Issue 26

I met a unicorn today
Her hair was brown and matted
Her horn ingrown (slightly)
Pus wiped with a cracked hoof
She speaks in whispers
Her voice full of craters
As she sits on the park swing
Cream rubbed under the eyes
Legs pulsing
Her day far away
Mine drifting to sleep
Under a black moon