Poem 129: Debbie

at last a unicorn

that sings

a fierce and slaying

song

and bites

the hand that feeds

its birth

thus breaking

myths, feraly.

________________

the body

is an opening place

for wounds

to heal the timbres

of even your

swiftest dealing

of the street routines

that tear at the strings

and tightening

of all your

so called causes.

_________________

we run

in grooves

even this

repeats

circles

and dies.

________________

beneath your arm

a baby goat

and the sun

silhouetting

your breast

and your love.