You can reduce my mortification but you can’t absorb my trauma

Or is it the other way round?

I’m biting my fist but why

The restless devils inside need absolution

Or just to sit down awhile and picnic by a river

There’s a dragon that can quiet these chattering demons

He wraps himself about the house at night

Like my sister kept guard for the darker sea creatures

The sharks and water bears that might otherwise sneak in under the blanket

(the tiny harmless faces of the bears will blind you

to the uncanny rows of teeth and dead white stare

of the real living shark beneath the sheets

beware the little water bears 

they could be anywhere, and they go by many names)


He has a story this one

I could tell you his story

This one who had everything, having lost everything

Had everything but what he’d lost

But to tell his story would be a crude, unworthy analysis

I could paint you a picture of an unguarded heart

And treasure closely watched

Like any dragon would

Or is it the other way round?

Treasures held light in exchange for a close attended heart

But the picture would show too little or too much

And not what’s lost, which being everything

Would leave nothing to depict


By incremental degrees, this dragon could have me on my knees

You just click your talons dragon

I’d come begging at your feet

For the peace

The soft quiet that you bring

Not the uncanny silence of fear, just of

other people talking next door.