Now does the night grow eerie with howling,
now stalks near Circe's strange menagerie,
fierce-jowled predators grunting and growling,
presaging some terrible tragedy.
The pyre - gross-swollen by Atropos' doubts,
banded bizarrely by curious vigil,
yielding wild glimpses of snot-glistened snouts,
they have come to witness the death ritual.
Atropos raises her shears to the night,
circles pyre upon which lays the ridgil*,
clenches her fist, grinding blades, striking light
cruelly aware of powerful sigil*.
As flames take the boy in their blazing arms,
the crew adds lament to bestial alarms.
*ridgil = a colt with undescended testicles
*sigil = a sign or image supposedly having magical power
YOU ARE READING
Dragonish
PoetryPART 1: Seven poems that explore love. The sated wind doodles mischievously no longer the ravening raptor loosed that scratched sharp claws to my unfettered glee. Now are you temperate, husky, obtuse. PART 2: Follows the tale of a persecuted dragon...
