Draco

In the great wyrm’s housewith sable drapesand eaves with spoutsin dragonlike shapes, I stood to facethe beast within —where heart had racedfrom his rage-winds. The chamberlainwho greets me therewith pale lips, thin.In master’s lair he drags me towardsthe waiting wyrm,whose towering hoardof skulls that squirm around his tail.Between his armsthe sought-for grail:but it’s in shards, a broken me,the gold I lostin bone-filled seaat marrow’s cost. I raise a fistto match his rage —a key, a twist,unlocking cage — revealing wyrmin mirror dark.Eyes inward turned:His is my spark. I stand to facemy beast within —where heart had racedfrom my rage-winds. I take the shardsof shattered gracethat wyrm would guardin hidden place and mend them witha glue of gold:I, wyrm, am smithof once wrecked mold.