I too am curious.

I want to see its haunches heave

across horizons primed for the movements

of unicorns. I want the myth

grown out of dreams when we say

what we mean and say

"now this," "touch this."

I wonder at the horn Pliny wrote

is an antidote for poison.

And while some might confuse it

with the sable antelope,

like you, I've called in the night

and sometimes

it has answered me.