Brake Lights

Riding a great dragon’s tail through the soaking wet darkness of the early morning, Red, Tails and tails of red bending through the breathing stone as I inch closer to the labour camp, Closer and closer to the sacrificial alter of Kronos, Where I hang my heart from his crooked scythe of time, In exchange for small pieces of silver, Never big enough to free me from the great dragon’s tail that furls red through the weeping shade of bitter cold, Never big enough to unhook my heart from his Scythe and give it full and healthy to my daughter’s, Never big enough to leave the labour camp, Never big enough to feel the rings of time shining long and warm on my pale skin, Just enough to keep me coming back, Just enough to chain me to the red tail, Just enough to lock me away from every colour of meaning, Just enough to enslave me in perpetual servitude, In honour of those small pieces of silver.