A Gold-like Necktie from the Metropolitan Museum of Art
I’m wearing unicorns around my throat
And near my heart. Of course they’re cream-like white,
Though on their necks in gold fields where they float
Are clasped wide collars of a red not bright
As blood but darker, deeper. Beveled horns
That seem to come from narwhale depths adorn
Their foreheads. Calmness in their forelegs scorns
Intensities of sunset and is born
Of meadow flowers and virginity.
They live in forests with mild bourns in spring.
They drink the waters of infinity
In autumn, so they never die. They swing
Their curlèd beards and curly tails. They wish
That they could sing. Their curls go swish, swish, swish.