crunch (a dragon’s lament)

By Martin L. Shoemaker

crunch

gnawing on old bones that

crunch

dark

but I won’t sleep because

I always creep in the

dark

slime

drips from my scales as the

autumn moon pales and the

poor quarry flails in the

slime.

ducks!

that’s what I dine on and

roast duck is fine and you

won’t buy this line but it’s

all that I pine for is

ducks!

lies!

all that you hear is un-

true. please don’t fear me, I’m

hiding out here. can’t I

just disappear? and it

ought to be clear: they’re all

lies!

Art!

music and poetry,

let’s talk of those. Oh yes

baseball and bowling and

musical shows and the

smell of a rose. And please

let’s not fight, no, let’s talk

art!

FOOLS!

Fierce dragon hunters with

axes and guns and just

everything under the

cursed bright sun. And there’s

never a one to sur-

vive when I’m done. So please

why don’t you run? You’re all

FOOLS!

BLOOD

FLIES THROUGH THE AIR AS MY

FLAME BURNS YOUR HAIR! AND I

SMELL THAT YOU’RE THERE! YOU CAN’T

HIDE ANYWHERE! AND I

TRIED TO BE FAIR, BUT I’M

CURSED WITH DESPAIR. SO I

REALLY DON’T CARE IF THE

PRICE OF YOUR DARE IS YOUR

BLOOD!

crunch…


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