My little brother, buy me a pony.
Oh brother, where art thou? Ride my battle steed.
You look up to me for personality.
My fame, my name, my face. Tiger blood in this rat race.
Mister miser, supplicant, analgin of fan and fair,
please help my pony over there.
Under the tree, fallen to his knees.
Fibrous glass, I think it’s his lungs.
Are you ready to ride again?
Brother Unicorn, fathers trident top.
Mother’s vision emissary polluted by airwaves.
Pegasister, Sphinx. Posthumous post script. Scribe.
FM – Friday Morning. The third of 4 parts
Composed 8th March 2019. Turns out it was/is women’s day. Pretty cool timing.
Categories: Creative Writing