Dragon

Morning peeks in the frosted window
over the blankets,
as the down chicks of the robins
open their night eyes to the new,
bright eye of day.

I wish those lids to close
and leave me alone,
but the sphere glares, a celestial nag
daring me to stay, to cast it away.
I lose.

But the darkness rests inside me:
the near-eternal night of my soul.

I stretch to quiet the banshee reveille,
startled at my moon-pale hands,
the lengthy nails not quite long enough
to curve, to curl down
as the hardened keratin scythes they should have been.

The mirror reveals a face not my own.
Where go the sleek diamonds of scales,
the vivid slits of black
upon rounded seas of blue:
a piercing stare like the shocking rush
of a cut of paper upon one's thumb?

The darkness hides inside me:
the near-eternal gaze of my soul.

I ride to classes on this
Aluminum horse that neighs squeakily along.
Oh, how I wish to gallop on my own--
To run on legs of sinewy steel
With exhaust of misty breath in the chill.

I ride anyway,
Stretching expansive wings to the sky
That reflects in the azure of my eyes,
Arching back in a prayer to the air,
Trumpeting the freedom of an imprisoned spirit.

The darkness reigns inside me:
the near-eternal joy of my soul.