Unicorn Lady
She thumps
The plane
With the flat of her hand
One mammary gland
Now a memory
She says,
I’m scarred.
Are you scared?
Don’t be.
My slice of life
Is a thin one.
I live it
With surgical precision.
Excising sentimentality.
I swim nude.
Deal with it,
She says.
Silence.
The cave.
The salt water.
Blue.
The afternoon
Far from the hubbub.
And she.
Unicorns
Aren’t imaginary creatures,
They’re us,
She continues.
Chop. Slice. Dice.
The doctor did it
To save my life
I grimace.
She smiles:
Chop. Slice. Dice.
Not nice?
A bodacious pair of Ta-Tas,
Is that what you’d prefer?
Now she speaks
To herself.
A pair, did you say?
One is good.
None is good too.
We are not our bodies.
Look beyond.
Look at me.
Holding on
To the side of the boat
She softly says,
I heard the story
Of a man who bought
The last two bottles
Of a rare wine.
He smashed one.
One was left,
Rarer than rare.
That’s what happened
With my beautiful pair
Of wine glasses too.
Not two.
Any more.