by Joseph Roque
Two of my closest
friends are dragons.
Tichar and Draco.
vigilante twins from Hell.
Dark, fierce, unrelenting.
Brooding and unforgiving.
Together we ride the night
two-wheeled demon bike breathing in
their airbrushed living colors, fused to
my polished steel and chrome.
My dragons are not much for
but we have an understanding—
when I ride I scream their names
three times, each in succession. . .
In return they spit fire, growl
and curse my birth, surround me
with their wings, swallow me whole
and scream my name,
three times in succession--
then smile and split the sky,
show me just before I die,
what it is to be a god.
© 2009 Joseph Roque
Roque, was last seen in the woods of New England, seducing nature and
gathering words in glass jars. Most recently, his poetry has appeared
in Silver Wings Magazine, A
Tender Touch and A
Shade of Blue, online, and is
forthcoming in A Long Story
Short, online; RagMag.org;
Zygote in my Coffee.com and EMuse-Zine.com
Find more by Joseph Roque in the Author Index.
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