Not Like Ordinary Horses
by Alex Lee
“Can you see the slippery slides in the sky?”
Little Caleb asks, his cat-eyes glinting like
Fireflies. He points his stubby finger upwards. I answer
Yes, but I’m too preoccupied with treating
A scratch on one of his slender knees.
I take out a small first-aid kit, give it a brief shake.
“I must’ve slipped on the way down,” he continues.
The acid bubbles inside the wound spray: plop, plop, plop.
It might sting a little. Psst. Psst.
He flinches, looks accusingly at me.
“You said only a little.” I blow away
The germ-eliminating bubbles, wandering aimlessly.
“The slide, it doesn’t stop, it goes on and on and on—”
I take out a small tube of ointment and squeeze it
Onto the wound. “On my way down, I saw
A unicorn parade in a sunlit glen.” Finally, opening
The adhesive straps, I unroll a set of bandages. He says
They pranced, neighed, but not like ordinary horses. They were
Melodic—whistling, the way the wind sings
Through April leaves. I cover it—
The wound—and feel the ointment spread. He says
It’s soothing, the way a dream soothes. “I’m going
Again,” he says, “This time I’ll bring back a star.”
Alex Lee is a high school student in South Korea. He is an alumnus of the Iowa Young Writers’ Studio and the Adroit Journal’s Summer Mentorship. His work has been recognized in the South Carolina Review, Polyphony Lit, and the Sarah Mook Poetry Contest.
