I have not been a freedom fighter all my life.
I try hard to keep things on the inside,
oil my skin with salves to keep angry hives
in their underground. It’s not easy to ride
dragons into battle when you’ve only got
one good legend. It’s a bitch to be typecasted
before you’ve even made it out of basic.
I wanted to be a wind talker, headsetted
shadow mouthing code words to river crocs.
I could write this down, find a publisher.
Or take images. The dragons hold their heads
so still, an immeasurable eye.
You ask me again and again to kill.
You say it is what I’m good at.
What you don’t know is I am also good
at kindnesses. Like this, the way I
put my sword in fast, the way I say
I’m sorry for your brilliant and glorious death.
Image of the Strength card, drawn randomly by M. from the tarot deck.
Words written on the couch.
Time Taken five minutes?
Brain on travel. Whee!