Pegasus, or 186,283 mps

—for Carrie

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No. I’d like an envelope

sealed with wax. My initials

in its vermillion. A boy

to run my message to

your garden, where you await me

on a swing—blossoms up & down

its twinning ropes. Each one cups a

moth or tender bee.

I’d settle for a pigeon

with my affection amid its claws,

landing on your lap like it’s

an airstrip. Curled like the horn of

Aries. Unfurling I will

join you in a fortnight. Faithful as

the Gemini clasping hands. Columba’s

done her duty—flutters back to the

posting house.

I’ll mount my starry stallion

with its wispy, milky wings.

Lurching forth its nose to

best the leap & dash of light—

for love is the master of all—

as I’ve penned with Aquila’s

plume, corroborated

with a kiss, beholden not to

tech & innovation,

its heartless, errant vows.

Andreas Gripp

August 21, 2026

Illustration: Johannes Hevelius (1690)