& They Break & They Blow

Rose Williams

It felt like being a dragon

Inside we were mythical creatures

15 years later I think of Tennessee’s

sister Rose, Laura and her glass unicorn

and how they broke her horn & made

her common but really they just tore apart

a beautiful creature, amputated her power

& looked at it as a Freudian necessity

There was a room to be hogtied & shocked

But mostly there were just rooms, or perhaps Narnian wardrobes

One man read the newspaper, cover to cover, he said

Nothing wrong with that

A little old lady was panicked about the flames

A homeless man played the same song over & over

On the piano, he played it pretty well, but

It was the only song he knew?

Its not altogether unpleasant to be waiting

But uncertain what you’re waiting for

It makes the act an observation of waiting

Which is all that can be asked of an artist

Perhaps it felt less like being a dragon & more

Like being inside one

After a while though who & where you are

Become frighteningly the same

It’s like madness. That’s what it’s like.

Not actual, but something like it.

Something familiar & terrifying but cool

Madness is always like madness

Because metaphors like dragons & unicorns

are made of glass & fire

and they break & they blow

and so the waiting goes