Mythical love like mythic beasts
is best reserved for maidens young,
sweetly fearful of reality.
For those cracked by time the enchanter's
hands must create magic more palpable-
or die in the trying.

That which is touched needs touch back.
flesh engaged in knowing flesh,
blushing with wet promises aroused,
hands slipping down the unicorn's horn,
drinking him in with wanting mouth, eager tongue,
taking him welcome in a lap of dreams
made real by daylight.

Loving across the ages, hooves flee
returning from a forest of silence
Seeking a virgin, now woman,
with child, finding the present.
Do not vanish again in illusions and mists.
Stay and love begetting reality.

by Karen Mitura