Sitting (Poem 148)

Slip under the surface

To where the dragons are.

Their claws, like ice picks,

Score the granite floors

Of their cavernous maws,

Leaving corrugations large

Enough to hide 

A spider or a diamond.

Sit, just there.

Sit, and tell them fairytales,

Lure them with your faith,

Here in their deep lairs

Of mist and mayhem,

Stone and stars,

Under the surface,

Where the dragons are.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six