Gumball Shadowscales, my daughter's bearded dragon
I can see the pale root of the candlelight -
birth blue and naked, the feeding hand.
Faces held by imaginary night
hover haggard like moons above the sand.
"Oh, look how he scurries! Look how he climbs!"
shrill the voices hiding behind steel doors.
Then, under my belly warm fingers slide,
and I'm not in the desert anymore,
but am flying, wingless, fast through the sky
once more to stare a bold knight in the eye.