ellipses...
we are icicles ready
to be shattered and
puddles already melted
the way the hero’s journey
is always bound to
winter.
we answer
with questions
and hang like ellipses
mid-air…
we know how
to wield
weapons but
we do not call
butchers ‘heroes’.
and we are our quest,
two parts
undiscovered
and one part
mapped out—
mostly in constellations—
rivers we must ford,
and mountains we must climb.
but even through valleys,
never did i think of you
and ink paper with warnings:
“here, there be monsters”
the way others screamed
with singed hair
and ashy lungs
after you burned them—
because we both know
the only dragons here
are the ones we let
make our hearts caves.
but i believe dragons guard treasures
of legendary value,
and someday,
when i am no longer afraid,
i can take up my arms
and whisper the promise.
the grail we both knew you already had:
“heart of gold.”