dragon

i used to pluck out my hair
to feed the dragons who came 
breathing fire on the ghost trees.
i grew up where the creek meets
a quilt's edge. i saw dragons everywhere
as a kid. they were on the roof. 
they were eating my parents. they were
sitting in the garage at night.
my father had me change the light bulbs
on the porch because i was the only one
with hands small enough to fit
inside the old glass fixtures. as i worked
the dragons watched & their shadows
stretched long & clear when the lamp lit again. 
once, a dragon chased me to the weis market.
it was night & he did not follow me home. 
a dragon is sometimes a belief & sometimes
a desire. both are forms of reaching.
i am more of a desire person. i have never
gotten to touch a dragon despite 
all of our interactions. i imagine they 
would feel like the surface of a just-lit 
light bulb in a dark mouth. 
the texture of a garter snake. i want someone
else to have seen them. it could not have 
just been me. i am convinced 
that maybe my brother did once.
it was snowing & the sky was bare.
we both stopped. no porch light,
just the glow of white snow lighting 
our faces. maybe he saw the creature
staring down at us. maybe he was looking
at something else. i could not make out
the beast's full body. eyes. claws. 
wing tips like mountains.