I followed you
up
my calf, over all the soft parts,
and let you settle in
the junkyard snarl in my lower back.
Now I can hear you wandering between
rusty refrigerators, trying not to
inhale;
the air is thick with old relationships
rotting. If you keep going,
there is an ancient Volvo in the back with good seats left.
I spent many nights there,
stretched out and staring at the sagging ceiling.
Peace,
It will keep you.

The last drifter had shorter legs;
I boosted her up frontways, and she burrowed into my belly
and burned. But the dragon in the middle
turned over
and over in its sleep,
I could hear its dreams restless in the junkyard.
She was safe and soft, but I drove her
out with icy mud, settled her on the air.
The dragon's walls hold me up
hold me--
She understands the danger in
ghosts and bellyquakes;
She moved on.

So walk quietly, beloved.
There are dragons between you
and soft tissue.
Make companions of iron and steel,
see, they hold, they keep me.
The dragon will know his own and
you are so small.
Look, I spread an empire for you
in the barbed wire. Stay,
I followed you
this far.