Pale Maiden

We joked it was the bud
Of a unicorn horn
Assured by the Professionals
It would fade as
The fontanels shrank
Shielding your sprouting brain
Cradled it against cold and impact
Yet it remained
Darker than a bruise
Hard like a lump of coal
Hotter than your skin
And year-by-year
It marked you more
During every bath
A special spot to wash
That wouldn’t be cleansed
A rock in the tide
Of your velvet mane
Raising cowlick storms
And fierce debate whether
To suffer or to excise
Now from home to car
To you as a penitent
In a hospital bed
I squirm in my skin
And curse the gurney
Coming to take
My glory from me
Though they say
The surgery is routine
I have doubts
My only rarity
Young and pure
Gleaming so bright I cry

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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The imagery is wonderful…

asoke kumar mitra

wonderful write. very new style.


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