Across a Storm-Dark Sky
You saw a dragon, etched like fire
and arcing across a storm-dark sky.
You saw a dragon, and your heart
lurched in your chest, stumbled
like a drunk, dipped and rose
the way birds do, startled
from their nests at sunrise.
When you blinked, the shadow
cast by its light seared
the insides of your eyelids,
and heat rose in your cheeks.
This is what it means to see visions:
you walk in dreams, feet plunging
where you expected solid ground,
eyes tearing from the glare
of lightning that echoes the tremor
of your pulse. You saw a dragon,
and even if the world mocks, you hold
that truth close and walk out in storms
to catch another glimpse.
Shy and nocturnal, Jennifer Crow has rarely been photographed in the wild, but it’s rumored that she lives near a waterfall in western New York. You can find her poetry on several websites, including Goblin Fruit, Uncanny, Mythic Delirium, Eye to the Telescope, and Mithila Review. She’s always happy to connect with readers on her Facebook author page or on twitter @writerjencrow.
