kjk #20 (day 26)

when I was a boy

I had a gun that shot dragons
and inside the smallest densest dragon
was a fireseed
and when I shot the gun accidentally
(my middle name was accidentally)
over the backyard fence
and through the window of the house
nextdoor where people in the house
lived, that dragon flew into a room
and met a child who ate its seed
and grew into a woman
whose words bloomed and seered
like forks held over a stove then applied
to the cheek in the cannibal marks
we wear to go to war. That day I wanted to mark
her, and every day after. She wanted something else.