In saucy March light a patch of snow
molts like a deflated dragon.
All sequins and undulations, the hide
smokes as the soul sinks into the earth.
For many months, the dragon will cheat
the sun, the pushy rival of his fire.
Come December the dragon will return,
breathing winter’s fierce electricity.
Those who cheered the falling leaves
will hail the underworldly glee he brings
to hair that flies away from the brush,
blankets that cast sparks, fingers
that shock the sensitive nose of the cat.
At last, a wizened sexiness snaps
in the dry air! Finally, the children sleep!
The teeth the dragon shed have risen
an army of lovers. Old souls walk nude
in a naked wood, alert to rumors
from the planet’s core. The dragon bares
his chest of flint and wooers strike
themselves ablaze. Thus cold and hard
ignite the hottest flame.
