May. 25th, 2007
I was looking at paintings from the Uffizi gallery to-day, and I just kept thinking, they all look so young, the martyrs. And I know that's part of it, of course, that the sacrifice is tragic not least because they have so much life to life, but still. Saint Sebastian especially; so young, such young faces. I want to hide them somewhere safe.
Also: A poem about dragons, largely for
skaryma and
tiamatschild. Is not utterly beautiful and tender?
Dragon
Karla Kuskin
Let me tell you about me.
Children love me,
You're a child.
All my heads are green and handsome.
All my eyes are red and wild.
All my toes have claws upon them.
All the claws have hooks.
I blow smoke through all my noses.
It is hotter than it looks.
All my tails have points upon them.
All my teeth are sharp and blue.
I won't bite you very badly.
I am fond of you.
All my scales are shaped like arrows.
They will hurt you if you touch.
So, although I know you love me,
Do not pet me very much.
Also: A poem about dragons, largely for
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Dragon
Karla Kuskin
Let me tell you about me.
Children love me,
You're a child.
All my heads are green and handsome.
All my eyes are red and wild.
All my toes have claws upon them.
All the claws have hooks.
I blow smoke through all my noses.
It is hotter than it looks.
All my tails have points upon them.
All my teeth are sharp and blue.
I won't bite you very badly.
I am fond of you.
All my scales are shaped like arrows.
They will hurt you if you touch.
So, although I know you love me,
Do not pet me very much.