La Dame à la licorne

By Rebekah Curry

Somehow, she always knew that the unicorn

was what she'd been waiting for. Why have a man

when you could have the shimmering horn,

the cloud-white mane, the eyes that shone like

polished stones? She sat in the dry leaves,

a maiden in a pleasaunce, its head on her knees.

It slept while she dreamed of a millefleur forest

and the end of the story by a pomegranate tree.

There was a long afterward. When they emerged

from a tangle of boughs, it all seemed different,

like looking through the other side of a mirror.

She stroked the unicorn's shivering flank,

remembering the crimson warmth of the tapestry.


Rebekah Curry is currently a student majoring in Classics. Her work has previously appeared in inkscrawl and Antiphon, and in the anthology Begin Again: 150 Kansas Poems (Woodley Press, 2011).

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