by A.J.M. Aldrian

A unlucky unicorn has hung itself on the light-string
when you always ask me to come down
flecks of colored insanity throughout the room,
you asked me-

to grab you some wine, to share supper
and run off from our family.
You asked me to listen to you play
when you sound like dying, before you are born.

Songs you know the meaning to, but not yet, not really.
Child, so high in your talent, so divided from the world.
You’ve gotten better at guitar,
is all I can really say, when the songs make me cry.

And the bottles in your cave of chaos
have stacked up, and the art on your wall
look like Picasso and Van Gogh had an absurdist child
Paintings that scare mom

You’re just learning still, about you and the world,
your place in it. You’re just learning still
to love yourself. That men will hurt and use you if you let them
How unforgiving this place is.

The cars of disease have run you over enough,
it’s time for you to make them stop.
But I’ll still go down when you ask me to
because I know how hard it is-how much you miss me

You say I don’t, maybe I don’t. Maybe you’re right.
Sissy, but we can still have our dance parties when mom is gone
and we don’t have to worry about dad anymore.
And I promise you, I’ll buy you a big house where no one can hurt you.

---

A.J.M. Aldrian is a graduate of Hamline University with a BFA in Creative Writing and a minor in History. She loves many genres including fiction; horror, sci-fi, literary, and fantasy, as well as poetry and non-fiction, historical, and nature and memoir. She collects books and loves spending time cuddled up reading them with her partner and cat. She can also be found on her podcast “Thinking on the Air” on Spotify.