Now I know what you’re thinking. In this one you’re the princess; the dragon is faceless. Everywhere, the edges of the waves are blown into froth. I worry so much about making it interesting. Off the ferry, the first thing we buy is a cone of sugared almonds. Crests of waves begin to topple.
Chimney pots and slates removed. Now, what I’ll say here may surprise you. The Ferris wheel pauses and we sway, watching the sea. The dragon’s weapon isn’t fire – it’s invisible. It’s a terrible idea. The surface of the sea takes on a whitish appearance.
Twigs break from trees. Whole trees in motion. And what if you change your mind? Now imagine doing this job – from Mars. You’re locked up. I drop ketchup on your dress, then lick it clean.
I win you an aqua teddy and we leave it on a ride. Whistling in telegraph wires. Your tower is so high. Small trees in leaf start to sway. Now in thirty years, none of this will remain. Of course I agree.
But is it good enough for you? Neon lamps are flashing as we walk back from the ocean. Now there’s no point in making this pretty. Wind raises dust and loose paper. Foam of glassy appearance. Your hair is bright tips from heaven’s edge.
I want so badly to be in the chamber. Why do I always screw it up? Direction of wind shown by smoke drift. Popcorn hangs on your curls when we leave the last roller coaster. Ripples without crests. Now we all know what this means.
Let me tell you a story: there is no way to scale the tower. Sea like a mirror; am I wasting your time? You fall asleep against me as the ferry exits the terminal. Smoke rises vertically.
SYLEE GORE has won prizes for her hybrid prose (Bird in Your Hands Prize), non-fiction (Bodleian Libraries), and poetry (Lord Alfred Douglas Memorial Prize). Her work appears in 3:AM, 14 Magazine, Brooklyn Review, Guesthouse, Harvard Review, Longbarrow Press, The Mays, The Rialto, SAND Journal, and elsewhere. Gore translates museum catalogues and artist monographs for galleries and publishers, and serves as Poetry Editor at the Oxford Review of Books.
