The Forked Tongue of the Dragon

Under the dark brim by over-light

I just lay out my bricks,

Bend on my broken knee.

White tiles soon dredged by dirt.

Layered and forgotten. Most beauty does.

 

So I trace the line on your inner thigh,

your eyes roll away. The horsehair snaps,

the sword falls into the banquet of sin.

Sweat on your back reveals the pain. Yes

the dragon’s tail moves from time to time.

 

Lust with its broad pencil strokes,

void of all detail sweeps past.

The deep punch leaves a kaleidoscope,

breathing new hope, new things,

and a saddened loss.

 

In day-lit-dreams I trace the scales

Of the dragon’s tail, restless

It brushes the dry leaves, scraping dirt.

Floating soot always darkens the sky

after relentless burning.

 

These gift-wrapped curses carry only aesthetic weight,

For what soon will be new, even faster it grows old.


 

This poem was included in the Anthology published by the Poet’s Dream community and can be dowloaded for free.

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