widows, ghosts and loves sit and sing
in the dark, arched marrow of me
in the dark, arched marrow of me
A
unicorn, as made as she is, does not understand that it is sculpted as stone is carved. She does not know that her horn is nothing more than an altar to gods living in the forests of her organs and the steeples of her spinal cord. Her eyes do not know that they do not see the world as others do, that there is something fragile in the movement of her sinew over her bones. She does not know that she is other.
She only knows that she is and that she is not alone.
And she is and is not alone as she streaks through the forests upon her legs that are inches longer than they were a moment ago. Her atoms are immortal, and holy, and profane, and they are feral as they clamour and clash in the shape of her. The pillar of her horn turns to weed reaching for the dappled rays of winter sunlight between the trees around which they weave.
Each moment, each second, each echoing bird cry reverberating in the hollow places of her fusing joints, she becomes fleeter. What race fawns had begun is being ended by the sleek and elegant sighthounds. Her bell-chime laugh turns smoky as a wildfire. Her stride turns to thunder instead of fox.
“We’ll have to be faster if we want to catch him.” The unicorn laughs in her new-smoke voice as she squints against the sunlight. Ahead the stag leaps over a fallen pine and the crack of his legs over the dying branches opens the jaws of some slumbering thing in her body. Her limbs stretch out until her belly is brushing against the low saplings just barely surviving above the inches of snow. The shadow she casts turns long as an owl’s wings as she leaps over the fallen pine.
And she is too lost in the thrill, that feral thrill, to notice the fungi and flowers blooming between the rotting pinecones. They follow the line of her shadow and taper off as the point of her horn tapers off into the dappled golden-light.
A unicorn, as made as she is, loses herself to the hunt and calls it nothing more than breathing.
{ @Isolt "speaks" notes: <3
