Spiders on the mantle, made it
Through the fire and up onto the brick:
Long legs splayed out, black on red.
John said there would be dragons,
I am not sure this is what he meant.
In another world she is straining,
Long legs splayed out, for a victory in blood:
Crowning achievement, the pink squall
Resounding when the tiny mouth opens, oh.
Here the fire is bitter orange,
Embers and ash and the stench of carbon,
And the light plays over my skin
Like a blessing for the bruises.
John said there would be dragons,
But I am purer than history, more dangerous
Than magic, more symptomatic than myth.