Perseus without a shield

Like Medusa you look at me.

Changable eyes of every shade of grey

Turn from cynical self-deprecation

To cutting steel, glittering a warning.

 

And like Perseus without a shield

I feel myself grow brittle,

Cracks creeping up my spine,

Branching out across my back.

 

Almost an afterthought,

That polished shield.

I see my own grey abstractions there,

The long shadow I can cast.

 

Now I feel you close behind me,

Your snakes hissing in my ear.

I slowly raise my eyes to yours –

You see yourself in mine.

 

And slowly your bent head

Settles on my shoulder.

Like golden ornaments your snakes

Curl around my hand in your hair…

 

February 2019, copyright jsmorgane

 

 

 

How to Converse with Dragons

In the vale I chanced to walk
And – as fate would have it –
‘Do you speak Stone?’
The Hornbeam asked,
Sounding somewhat frazzled.
I stopped and stared,
And wondered to myself
How it could be that
Anybody would assume
That somebody speaks Tree.
This somebody, alas, was I
And clearly did I hear
The English Oak that stood nearby
Chuckling in my ear.

I frowned and spoke –
In Tree, it seems –
‘I’m really mighty sorry,
I don’t speak Stone but
I would ask what seems to be your worry.’
‘Haha’, the English Oak replied,
But the Hornbeam grumbled,
‘It is a tiny stone beneath
My root which has me stunted.’
So I bent down to dig a bit,
And found the troubled root,
There underneath a stone lay hid
Which gladly I removed.

‘Kind thanks to you’,
Said English Oak, while
Hornbeam was a-titter
With joy and mirth and
Frolicking his roots hither and thither.

I held the stone fast in my hand,
When I could feel it move.
Then open burst the pebble,
Which had me much amused.
A dragon coiled around my wrist
And snugly took abode
Half up my sleeve, half peeping out
Feeling quite at home.
While I still wondered at the beast,
It turned its shining head and
Regarding me the creature said:
‘You’re good at Stone, I give you that,
But I shall teach you Dragon.’

© jsmorgane (Jan 2014)