From the Fishouse

The gophers take the cake
when hills are low – the tall man
sold the raffle tickets to you, only a few really

cloth and phlox and stars inside
stars skip down the runway,
the California press planting a stake,

staking a claim, an armored
knight: a grin and a groom
before the shutter, before the minutes spent

standing before the battle: the knives,
pain, loss of a plan, dragon’s size and
touch – the knight as far from home as home would have.

The knight and angled lance, rail wrist
in an elegant twist the coiled dragon’s lunge.
Now never come again, not to come again –

the hero withers, that stake, that dragon, that dream
that stands by the batting cage
feeling the point of contact.