Alchemy

 

There is the suggestion of a wing

where Pegasus flies the wall,

 

the whitest wing to mediate

matter and air.

 

Oak grows so hard

sometimes her hands hurt.

 

She only makes

one big horse a year now

 

and often cries.

Look into the corner,

 

a unicorn snorts,

his horn of sharpened wood.

Rose Cook

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