Striking hooves, thudding.
Muscular shoulders kniving beneath me.
I smell horsey-sweat,
Bracing for him to take flight.
Unicorns, elegant rhinos,
Real as the toes on my feet.
Fantasy knubs under my chubby heels,
Until the fine hairs of feathers sprout.
We both, unicorn and fancy,
Take flight. Then the call to supper.
The unicorn lands in Bosch’s world.
I land on an earth void of delights.
‘Til we meet again
Put Out to Pasture 