Poetry

Catching the Next Dragon Out of Here

Querying taverns and searching for a spare D-20

Do you know if time is a healer or bard, when all we’re collecting are bruises and scars? It slipped through our fingers — set sail, spread the cards. Call me chaotic as I fall apart.

Our conversations mirror in copy and paste. Our complications they R A T T L E and S H A K E.

What a fool — What a world! — What a life …What a waste.

I’m giving up easy, I’m walking away. That’s better than burning my whims at the stake. I hurt you to help you and you ran away. Maybe it’s me then, who’s outlived their stay.

In my imagination deep evergreens soar — I’ve coerced the captain and we’re leaving port. Past skyscraper lifelines, I’m climbing aboard. Leaving Angels in tangles with sextant and sword.