Hunting Manual
The unicorn is an easy prey: its horn
in the maiden’ s lap is an obvious
twist, a tamed figure — like the hawk
that once roamed free, but sits now, fat and hooded,
squawking on the hunter’ s wrist. It’ s easy
to catch what no longer captures
the mind, long since woven in,
a faded tapestry on a crumbling wall
made by the women who wore keys
at their waists and in their sleep came
hot dreams of wounded knights left bleeding