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river rat: Dragons held me
Two dragons held my hand
the year and day the sun stayed away.
My colossus and her son polished glistening scales,
smudging sage curled graceful plaster carved tails.
A loss mother and son knew well
from dragon father’s horse needle ride in hell.
Both reptilian faces dwelled slick once more
the day hell burned my love’s core.
A circle formed, candlelight wavering shadows above
a brightened cold block ingot in my heart solid stove.
An X soon-to-be wanted more, a sign a flash, awakening light
from endless black mourning night.
The floor once in Atlanta a wall all marbled veins
rode to Nathanael Greene's city on gryphon trains
caught more tears flat covering new hallowed ground
than a life tax house bound.
I miss my dragons days and a year
for their hope, their strength, and their clear
vision of life not of this earth
holding to a Seven Sisters’ origin birth.
I miss my dragons’ twinkle ding-dong sound,
the cat with wings, and the old dog that drowned,
but I miss more than anything, more than heaven above,
the one and only man I could love.
