The Dragon bites the Moon
the Emerald Tablet gets laid on the anvil
we hear the pounding of the chisel
forging our story
into buried maps
and future museum relics
We never did climb those Pyramids
too many steps
instead we made out under the Cedar Tree
guessing the names of all the Jinn
still entombed beneath her roots
I took a cast of my Heart
so you would one day understand
the language of my rapture
etched into the glyphs
which alchemists would come to relish
in their crucibles of curiosity
fire and water
lead to gold
distillation of a dream
cut me open
so you can find my song
we both know how teething Dragons
love to scribe
their poems of passion
with shadow ash
in a calligraphy of fangs
onto her creamy moon night scrolls