Elizabeth Penrose
art by Satch
The Prince Who Killed A Dragon
In a strange country, I sat at the high table.
A page serving wine
Looked full in my face and stumbled.
I have slept in barns rather than stay at Court.
For men stare at me and then look down,
Men cross themselves when I come into a room.
They say there is a mark upon my sword blade
Which is the opposite of the mark of Cain,
And gives me the right to kill Cain when I meet him.
But I have no mark that I know of. I know
The smells of a forest on a spring morning,
And how it sounds on winter nights. I know
How it is to fast for cleanliness
And find it not. I know
How a horse shivers when first she meets a dragon,
Its scent like fire and amber smoke together;
I know how my fear tastes;
I know the pitch of battle with a single foe,
When fought with might and no hope,
And how its eyes gleam.
I know the end, the carcass steaming with blood.
For I am the prince who killed a dragon: it was enough.