The Dragon
Perhaps it
would be safer to be with the dragon
battering on,
a broiling cloud,
while its muscular eye juts out
swivelling
to pinpoint bloodful meals.
But having clung
on long enough,
dodging
roaring columns of purple flame,
thighs
gripping and slipping from its scaly back ,
I drop free
and hurtle
to ground.
Landed, I
wipe away ash and viscera
and look up
to see the
dragon’s torn but mighty wings
creak on.
© Catherine
Lucie, 2013
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