May again and time to look the lake in the eye.
Deep to the slain dragon. A creature that father
would subdue easily. With fire and water and
applied laws of mechanics. His own way of
dealing with the beast. Don’t call me George
if I cannot, he used to say. Metal bent into
whatever shape he wanted. He only needed to
handle heat and cold, forces that weld and turn
into solid rock. And in the end, gravity put him
down. Same gravity that allows saints levitate
and dragons fly. He cartwheeled through the
woods. Firefly hurling toward the burning lake.



Published in "Arborealis" anthology
by The Ontario Poetry Society, 2010