on some bus
child on her window knee
two shared the aisle chair
notebook on her free leg
song so soft
and wild as a cherry breeze
who dares the rapture
o' lullaby calliope
tis i angled just so
with my temple to the window
feigning an ugly rest
yet i am fully immersed
every whisper every gesture
displayed in the light on the glass
had queen scheherazade
been the child of father god
and mother time the eldest of her sisters
the mythologies she wove
would not hold half the yarns of gold
nor the qualities mysterious as this one
i spied for all those miles
i surmised her lover was the god of war
in all her songs he was immortal
but he wasn't in the picture anymore
nah he wasn't in the picture anymore
aries drove his stormcloud chariot
through the kingdoms of the north
he landed near the bog
of a thousand year fog
where the well waters all smelled scorched
now the berries of the brambles that were nurtured by the bog
caused the pillars of memory the to collapse
for this fog was no fog but the exhaust of a dragon
which billowed from her nostrils as she slept
now the dragon was a sorceress
she kept her fragile peace
all these lands were peopled by their enemies
ancient hatred filling within her keep
she robbed the very battlefield of memories
i can't recall precisely what happened
it bodes well for the dragon
when i woke they were gone
likely disembarked some bus stop by the ocean
perhaps they had never assumed a physical form
lucky to have never gazed directly
i don't know the old gods
i could be a magpie
or part of me i never knew existed
could be offered as an ode to some ineffable jewel
just like an ode to the ineffable jewel