Anuphraxas Bound (Rough)

I can see it in the distance,
a solitary plume rising from the ground
like smoke from a dragon's nostril.

No, wait; no good dragon has only one nostril,
and as I look I see the second
hidden among the grass, just up hill.
No wait, those aren't nostrils, they're too small.
This must be one giant beast, with nostrils more like
caverns than pizzas.

But there are great funnels over them,
collecting the smoke and channeling it
out of the ground so it doesn't fill the tunnels he is chained
in, and kill him.

The gnomes must have made it,
hundreds
and thousands
of years ago, when they found him
and caught him
and bound him in the earth.
The battle raged for days,
killing dozens of gnomes,
but unfortunately, there were always more.
They buried him under their never-ending numbers,
and then under the Earth.

If I were them, I would use his warmth for heat,
and fry eggs on his mammoth sides.
I'm sure they do.
What else is a chained dragon good for?
I suppose he must shed, now and again,
and when their kings meet the goblin chiefs,
they go arrayed in the finest dragon scale plate,
and give terse commands to tall gnomes
(It's not an oxymoron)
with swords and knives of toenail clippings.

The goblins are fierce,
warriors all, but stupid and superstitious.
Their petty steel is no match for dragon dandruff
and they concede the tunnel network
as far east as the river Lethe.

I guess the dragon is a savior,
a chained beast like Atlas
holding up civilization,
but no Odysseus seems likely to come along
and take his burden,
the burden of supporting an entire subterranean world.
But even if he did, Odysseus would certainly trick him when he returned with the golden apples and give the world back and then Atlas would get all mad and try to get back at him but be totally unable, because what can you do when you are holding the world?
I know, the allusion is shaky,
and the analogy unsound.
But still,
it's fine, you get it.

Like Atlas, the chained beast holds up civilization
as they know it, and submits to all of their humiliations.
But the worst thing,
the worst of all,
what he hates,
and really loathes,
are not the chains
or the eggs
or the incessant scale harvesters.
What he really minds
and wishes he could get rid of,
are those damned nose funnels,
because now he can never reach to scratch his itches.

Someday,
he tells himself.
Someday, I am going to sneeze
and they will blow off into space,
and I'll be able to breath at last.

You and I will know that day when it comes.
(I is me not him here)
As we walk down the hill,
we will notice the free flow of steam,
and the conspicuous lack of manhole covers.
You'll say something like,
“Hmm, it must be caused by a unusually strong build-up of steam. I've heard that often occurs during peak heating times like the mid-winter cold flash we are experiencing now. Don't you agree?”
I'll shrug.
“I think it's dragons.”
Of course, knowing myself all too well,
I could be you, and you could be me,
but who cares.
The exchange will occur,
and I (you) will be wrong,
and you (me) will be right,
but really, it doesn't matter.
As long as one day,
walking down the hill,
there are no manhole covers ,
it can be excess steam,
dragons,
alien abduction,
manhole cover thieves,
a savage prank,
a new campus aesthetic,
spontaneous combustion,
the Bermuda Triangle,
Lee Harvey Oswald,
Jack Ruby,
Stairway to Heaven played backwards,
or even just a dream,
as long as you said one thing,
and I said another,
and we talked.
What's it matter if it's an invisible force,
or warped space time,
or gravitrons?
Newton got a snack either way.


((This is the poem that 0330 is referring to, if you have read the previous post and care to know))