Poet 3: FogCat

In the Steam Tunnels Under the University

If I were alone
I would be afraid.

Chilled by depth beneath the soil
Maze of walls entrench all sound.
All but hollow hiss of air
Pressed through veins and monster guts.

And dizzy dizzy spiraled ‘round
Paint thick with grit and layered on
Like some ancient dirty graven sin
Graffiti claims its word is law.

If I were alone
I would believe anything.

Ghosts of hateful lonely souls
Stand beyond the tight shut doors.
That is not steam inside those pipes
But dragon breath all stench and flame.

I’d believe the quiet whispered fears,
The sharpie’s scrawl: “Dragons live here.”

But of course,
I’m not alone
And someone's changed
The sharpie’s tone.
So now instead it simply reads
“Dragons live heretically.”

The End

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