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


# # #

Cradling by Joanna M. Weston
originally published May 6, 2009



Joanna M. Weston M.A. has had poetry, reviews, and short stories published in anthologies and journals for twenty years. She has two middle-readers—The Willow Tree Girl and Those Blue Shoes—as well as A Summer Father, a poetry collection, in print from Frontenac House of Calgary. 

For more of Joanna's work,
visit her Big Pulp author page


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