I stepped up to the mouth
of the dark hole,
a flicker catching my curious
necessity for heat
as in a fondness for friction
something strong stirs
in this cave
I come to find
as my eyes adjust
not some majestic dragon
as projected upon the moist stone wall
but a shriveled and scarred ogre
unseen to himself and flesh burnt
by the venomous flames uncoiling
from his own sharp tongue
lashing.
The smoke and singe surround every crevice
a decrepid and deathly stench
steams from his chest where
his heart rotted in the darkness
called some body and vacant vessel
vulnerable and afraid
of all the elements
that make
a man.
Photography: Albert Grünwedel (July 31, 1856 – October 28, 1935), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
