DRAGON GOING VEGAN
you can't always tell how your friends feel
I’m a fisherman. My rod is water.
I wake shoals naked, fire them into my mouth
and have them steaming, barbecued and boiled
aware, moving, what must they think of me?
Translucent and silver, buttering down my throat.
Quick thinkers slice my tongue and gloat when they succeed.
What they can’t know, blood was my favourite soup.
More they can't know, as I drink my sadness grows.
Their minds, more clear than mine, souls more beautiful.
I’m their wind, a Destroyer, emptying their halls below.
My friend, a Snakewoman and Porcy's daughter,
made soup of fruit and water, had me make it hotter,
and we laughed, mid-dinner; blood in her furbelows,
blood down my neck rolls, blood, as my lungs glow.
About the Creator
Cellestine Aggrey
I want to know what it took the best writers to get good. I'm curious. The minute Shakespeare, WC Williams, T Hughes, CA Duffy had done their best work must have felt like sky diving. We all should know what that deep catharsis feels like.
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