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Cradling
by Joanna Weston

 

an armful of dragons
and nowhere to put them

I pass counters
beds, balconies, and chairs
the dragons cling
to safety, nestle close
weeping fire on my t-shirt
a snout dribbles embers
needing to be wiped
the handkerchief burns
I toss it away
then stroke shuddering scales
and settle to simmering flame
on my shoulders