Last Unicorn

Standing before a forest,
I watch the night and the shadows.
Something moves – a flash of silver? No –
Don't panic now, he says, just
let it come to you of its own...
and it
will come.
That's right, easy does it.
One step at a time.
That's it, my beauty…

A beauty indeed.
Ice-blue eyes, deep as infinity
A coat unmarred by dirt,
a horn whose healing
spills over to glow about it,
cloven hooves that touch the grass
with the lightness
of a dancer.
The horn on my shoulder
knights me, filling me
with something I cannot name.
Our eyes – light and dark – lock;
in hers I see only love, and I wonder
what she sees in mine.
I lay my hand on her neck.

Easy, pretty one, don't fear.

She stiffens as the spear pierces her heart;
her eyes accuse me.
Quicksilver blood pools on the earth.
Life deserts her and she falls,
her horn scraping my chest.
The last unicorn,
dying in a spreading pool of blood,
as I – the last and only virgin
in this small town – stand over her,
grieving for what I've done,
for what I was made to do.
The last unicorn,
neck crooked, legs twisted,
lies lifeless, her beauty gone,
as my father strips her of her horn.