On Dragons

I’ve read somewhere our enmity with them —

With dragons — came just six short hours behind

Our first naive but bright and happy smile

Was met by two delighted goddesses —

Then young, though beautiful and awful still —

The smile of Terra and the Bright-Eyed Maid.

In but six hours they both turned old and dark

And warned of dragons lurking everywhere.

The first, a dress of thorns and thistles donned;

The second took to wandering disguised,

To urge the fight or yank the hero’s hair.

Once — nearer to the time when shadows fell

Upon this once bright, solid world — we had

A better time remembering the things

They said and what is real. But now we say

‘There’s no such thing as dragons’ to ourselves

And curl up closely to the scaly things.

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*An earlier form of this poem was published in The Quarterly Review (11 Nov. 2015)