A dragon nests by my keyboard,
placed there by my girl
to turn scraps into poems.
His name is Lime.
When the emptiness is buzzing in my head,
he tunes ear and scales
to the hum and considers which notes
make him
sleepier than a rock in noon sun,
hungrier than a bee in new-mown lawn,
fiercer than a mama with nothing more
than tooth and claw
to set between
her child and a world
that feels no magic.
First published by Shot Glass Journal (Jan. 2017)
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