Here's a new draft of that Dragon exercise we did two weeks ago. Enjoy.


Dragon Tattoo

The jaws surprised me,
peeking out of a green snout.
Eyes without iris,
Ears perched upwards like
a spearhead on a face of scales.

Smiling, it rose out the back
side of her torn pants, tattooed
on white freckled skin. She
hides it on the small of her back
under a blood red shirt.

She says:
Everyone has dragon tattoos.
True, perhaps.

Sometimes, I see them.

On the arm of an old sailor, a yellow
dragon leaps out of his right sleeve.
The tail slithers down his arm and
twists like a question mark.

A crimson dragon spreads
wings beneath the false breast
of an actress. Glitter surrounds
those intricate claws.

A black dragon covered with
sweat on the belly of a man in a
black suit. The tongue extends
out of a hungry mouth.

Everyone has dragon tattoos.
Perhaps it’s the way they hide
under your clothes, tugged safely
for months before they show
their teeth,

while others remain invisible,
hiding under the skin for years
till an artist carves it into life,
in time, on the best
patch of skin.

Dragons in waiting,
will they ever be seen?
Will they have wings? will they
breathe fire? Or will they sleep
in the cave of our bodies, aching
to be created, conquered,
calmed, kissed?