vying for his rightful place
upon dragon patrol’s flag

he takes the stump
and screeches at the boys

i am man! no i am dragon
man!! the beef of his arm vibrates

as he curls his bicep
into ever more and more and more bicep

mounds of veiny muscle
ripping through his skin with each flex

posturing himself as strong
and bad and everything a boy desires

himself to be i bring you fire!
he shrieks, embers crackling

out his jowl onto the boys’ faces
scorching through to bone

i bring you flame! i even bring you
the power of BURNINATION!!!

the scouts jump to their feet
faces lit up as torches on march

to set a spinster’s hut to ash
and chant trog-dor! trog-dor!

they grab the cloth flag
sew an S (for dragon)

a more different S (also for dragon)
closed curves for the mouth

then, of course, the consummate Vs
for sharp teeth and sharp spineties and sharp

eyebrows furled into
the cruelty of boyish glee

now! the dragon man steps forward
one last touch! he sucks in deep

scales sizzling along his body
and puffs his funk

into the stitches of the fabric
as the embers gutter out

the stink of meat still
wafting from the singes

our patrol leader hoists the flag
in the air and screeches

we are men! no, we are dragon
men!! the scouts howl in reply

and i worry, i worry,
he may be right