St. George What landscape this? aftermath of aerial carpet bombing ten years hence grass emerges in meager patches dragon breathing from yonder barren mound Ghosts are at bay my cohort embraces the warrior if not the cause she is war's tempest tempered steel drawn from hades furnace sword is heavy shield slides from its weight shrugged into position by weary shoulders what special death lies o'er the hill? the crocodilian, or mine? "ten years, my friend tracked and tracked against never brought to knee scarred, delimbed strung together from spares another day to dawn" a moment's pause 'tween the breath and the inbreath living a different life servitude, prayer, meditation passion of heaven the searing light of ineffable what fearful visage reigned down upon supplicant flesh? then heretic, a lifetime lost to cultish fantasy strapped breastplate, plated greaves kissed loved ones goodbye enter the fray this, this monster: is mine doppleganger in reptilian flesh. bonded for a deathful conclusion, crippled life, or less I have tried to find paradise in a lover's embrace but the dragon lay between us in nightmares and fever dreams reflected in mirrored pools and burnished steel our mirrored lips repeat "You will be the death of me" in this, this moment of courage I am most alone I grieve for my widowed bride white dress muddied and tattered ringless I grieve for a different life I might have led pious, pastoral a moment, then gone: O'ER THE HILL! O'ER THE HILL! O'ER THE HILL!