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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