He claims he’s a dragon
but his scales are painted cardboard—
only for show
He claims he’s a nightmare
but I’ve seen him pick roadside wildflowers
He claims he’s a black knight
sent to battle forces of good and forces of nature and forces of armed forces
but in quiet moments I can tell he’s daydreaming
Not of death
Not of destruction
But of a cottage in the woods
no wars to wage
no villages to plunder or protect
Where swords can remain dull decorations hung over the hearth
where soup is always in the pot
where no one tells him to be a dragon or a nightmare or a man
Where he can sit quietly
and read books
and wait for his own ever after
and he doesn’t need it to be happy
only to be
quiet.
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Rebecca Cuthbert (she/her) writes dark fiction and poetry. Her books include In Memory of Exoskeletons (poetry, Alien Buddha Press, 2024 Imadjinn Award winner); Creep This Way: How to Become a Horror Writer with 24 Tips to Get You Ghouling (nonfiction, Seamus & Nunzio Productions, 2024 Golden Scoop Award nominee); and Self-Made Monsters (fiction and poetry, forthcoming, Alien Buddha Press). For publications, awards, reviews, and more, visitrebeccacuthbert.com.
Not of Destruction is such a beautiful touching poem. Your words put me there with him, wanting a bowl of soup. Thank you,