I said a few weeks ago that i would publish here my first accepted poem, “Lizard Skin,” that appeared in the September issue of Chantwood magazine. Please accept it for what it is, an early example of the kind of poetry I write. Here it is:
You are a dragon, a winged lizard,
with breath that stinks and scales
that clank like metal in a sink.
Your hoary face is as wrinkled
as a crumpled black garbage bag.
It isn’t magic dust that saves me
but fortitude and choler
that smolders but does not die.
I don’t let it burn me.
I’ve learned that much.
You wiggled into places
you did not belong,
hairy and handsome,
now all lost in age and reptile skin.
I am free and alone.
It should be single spaced, but I haven’t figured out how to do that and get the line breaks right. No comments necessary, folks. I just said I’d publish it and here it is!