Resting Pink
The Unicorn Prince
'I put on my face. This one is wolfish,
covered in whorls of black and gray fur.
My whiskers flex and fall; I comb them
with my nails. My teeth are broken in places.
Depending on the light, I am glossy
or made of shadows. When I walk, my skin,
loose, follows with a slight delay. What did I wear
when we were new? Must have been the curly
one, lambish. Later, I was the blind ostrich,
my face a sad block, all eye and beak, hiding
in the sand. I chew my paws and pace
the bedroom. My fur is furrowed and sweaty.
I pant. I pant and growl softly, bare my teeth
at you on your way out. I heard everything,
do you believe it? The uneasy feeling
of a stranger by your side. Turn around;
I am the stranger. Go on, run away now,
run away on your dainty little hooves.'
Self-Portrait as Beast
Finishing my birthday off with a well-deserved episode of Being Human
(Robson Green as a werewolf: unexpectedly attractive)
and the lingering nausea from my homemade Milk Chocolate Kahlua Chiffon Cat Cake:
It isn't a birthday until somebody's tossed their cookies.
This is how i know my sisters tolerate love me.
It may be my birthday on Wednesday but that didn't stop me from indulging in yet another book.
...
Curmudgeons need their stories.
Especially when the prospect of getting even older is only days away.
Bleugh.
Kill me now.
This version, specifically.
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