High above the cliff’s edge
you may see my long tail whip
in the cloudy crisp air
or hear the swoosh of my wings
as I move from perch to perch, landing
on anthills that are overflowing with memories.
I am not afriad of my past because my armor
is thick and impenatrable
and if an ant is somehow able to
find a flaw in my scales
and begins stinging my bare flesh
I need only dive into the sea below
to refresh and start anew.
Dragons, born of Hermes,
are adaptable to any environment,
equipped with fire, ice, and a natural
nonchalance which enables us to roam seamlessly
from realm to realm
and dwell in the in-between world
where I stand with one foot
in fantasy and the other in reality.
Perfectly content with my ever-evolving life
I only feel fear when my shadow
takes the shape of man and
stalks me relentlessly—
as his envious hand gets too close
I spit fire in hopes that he will dissapear
but it only makes him dance back and forth with a smile.
Weary of his enjoyment I spew ice to
freeze him in place and out of curiosity
I dive through my shadow and emerge as a human
immobilized and forced
to wear armor of nerves and blood
that ceaselessly cry for the scaly skin of a dragon that
my imagination created
to save me from
the pain and realization
that there is no middle ground