The Silence of Being Buried – 9

Horse - 35 mm black and white

Horse – 35 mm black and white

The flight of dragons
this eve
Bring a scent of lemon on the air
Dapple my face with paprika
The fur and feather gown
rolls and scampers in its run at my heels
The fire of ecstasy
that burns you down to a twitching mess
will singe your cheeks
You’ll smile and cry
I will dance the night into being
and stab the dragon with my lance,
the one we made from the last unbroken bed post,
tinged with poison brewed with care,
sharpened with the fabled woodsman’s axe.

Raise your arms
The dragon turns
Light and life glows one last demonic pulse
I scream true names,
true words
My hair is slicked with tallow
as defiance
You spin and push at me
I fly full upward
A mighty blow
and magic flows down from the sky
I am at once the bull of heaven,
mad and smashing at the world,
but you drink the light of the day
and introduce the night.

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