Of Unicorns, Dog Sweaters and Pink Cake

The Unicorn You’ve Become

The unicorn
you’ve become
has an uneven
horn—
“slightly askew
for stylish effect,”
you say.
But I see
a unicorn
who’s cockeyed
searching for a way
to straighten
his adornment.
Left to the devices
of style,
you say you can
laugh off
your irregularities.

————————–

The Sinking Duck

The sinking duck
smoothing back feathers
keeps a light tread
in the drowning.
Reaching the pond’s
bottom,
his quacks make music
in submerged acoustics.

——————————–

The Dog

The dog
you carry around
with you
isn’t you
but you
refer to him
as if he were
you.
You and the dog
both scratch
your ears a lot;
you both
get sent outside
when howling
too much indoors.
But the dog
keeps better track
of his tail.

——————————–

Your Dog Sweater

Your dog sweater
fits so swell
your paws
look longer
than usual.
A Cocker Spaniel,
you could pass
for a Great Dane
puppy’s puppy.
Your fur
is set off
to perfection
by that color.
Your canine
teeth
are shown
at their best.
Sell your wares,
doggie,
sell your wares
for meaty bones.

——————————-

The Locusts Came

The locusts came
in the peach tree;
the fruit
I tried to sell.
Never ripe, I
tried to press
dry
into an artistic
collage.
Plaster peach
the colors glossy
the juice
ran out;
the sight
of the varying
colors of your
unpeeled skin
looks back
from the glue
surface
and polish.

—————————

The Pink Cake

The tracks
led to a pink cake.
Tracks disappeared
in decorative
flourishes,
the sugar
trailed around
the edges.
Taking the path
to the sweet end,
the one who came
upon the pink cake
lapped at its surface
afraid
to cut it alone.

——————————

I Never Liked Him

I never liked him
and now I’m glad
I don’t have to
see him again.
I wouldn’t
say I wished him
dead
but I won’t say
I’ll speak
at his funeral
because I’m attending
a lady bug convention
in which specimens
of dead lady bugs
are passed around.
I never liked him
and won’t attend
his wake
because I’ve got
a tree doctor
coming from Switzerland
to diagnose
an ailing Maple tree.
He’s in a coffin
boxed up
in time for Christmas.
No malice intended
but I’m glad
the lid’s shut
on his inquiries.

—————————–

Kiss the Lion

Kiss the lion
risk
getting whiskers
stuck to your
lips.
Paws and claws
in your hair
and remnants
of zebra kill
on your breath.

—————————-

Hornets with No Nest

Hornets
with no nest
are circling
your window.
“Build a nest,”
you tell them,
“organize yourselves.”
But stingers
out
the insects swarm
against your
window pane
waiting for the glass
to be rolled back
thinking maybe
your bed sheets
are best to infest.

———————————

Your Basket

Your basket
filled with strawberries,
you cut in line
anyway,
taking a few
grapes, too
along the way.
You elbowed
and shoved
your way
to the next piece
of harvest,
dropping nothing
of your own,
scattering the pickings
of those behind you.

——————————

Spoiled Meat

Spoiled meat
you waited too long
to serve;
as you didn’t
pay for it yourself
you were in no rush
to serve it.
The parrot
with rare
copper and azure
wings
you asked for
as a gift
you carried
on your shoulder
as a party novelty,
the bird
repeating
your friends’
compliments.

—————————–

Doll Inside

Doll inside
my drawer.
Her hair
strung up,
her skin
cracked;
her stitches
coming open.
The seams
are off-loading
her inner foam;
the top of her
head and bottom
of her soles
are open.

—————————

Unoriginal, Too

Petunia
you’re not,
but maybe
a colored-up daisy
dyed blue
or red
or another
unnatural-to-you
hue.
A bouquet of plain
flowers,
you’re not only
plain
but dyed to be
unoriginal, too.

—————————-

Being Butter

Being trapped
inside
a butter dish,
you can’t help
but squirm
among the grease.
The ceramic
lid on top of you,
the knives
out for you
the diners
primed
to melt you
is difficult
having been
used to the peace
of the freezer,
hardened over
so you could stay
yourself.

—————————-

Seepacor

Seepacor medicine
keeps your insides
from seeping out.
If you ever
feel your core
dropping out
through your skin
pores,
take 1 gram
per day
by mouth
of Seepacor—
recommended
as the number one
treatment
by internal medicine
doctors worldwide
for inside seeping
out disease.

———————————

Good Luck, Summer Ghost

Good luck
summer ghost.
Sorry to see
you go, wrapped
in white
cold now.
Bald boughed
absent
of animals
hiding out,
the sun stays away, too
because
knowing you,
it’s best
to stay aloof.

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4 Responses to Of Unicorns, Dog Sweaters and Pink Cake

  1. Will says:

    Great poetry! I’ve only browsed a few so far, but I like them. By the way, it’s “Cocker Spaniel.” No biggie.

  2. KL Glover says:

    I am proud that I know such a gifted writer. The poetry has tantalizing depth. Makes you want to read it twice to be sure you got the true meaning. Love it! Go girl!

    • Thank you VERY much! I really appreciate the kind words. I hope to do more creative writing now that I have this new medium to showcase it. Let me know the next time you’re in the city on the weekend. Maybe we can explore a new brunch place.

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