Being dragged and
burned at my seams,
I seep into memories.

Abba was a dragon in that
castle in the tree, spitting pretend
fire at my brother and me.

I spent 90 degree summers
watching Dragon Ball Z.
Lazy mornings, boxers and a tee.

Brother dragon watched with me.
Kamehameha, we would joke and scream.
But the house caught fire,

because brother burned
the tree. Abba got mad. Amma
drank her tea.

I ran upstairs, to my own party.
Traded in dragons for Barbies.
Pinks and purples, house of dreams.

But dragon calls, and
I’m at his feet. For some
reason, I can’t defeat

his sharpened teeth.
He burns my pink
and purple reverie.

I’m less a doll, now. More a drag
queen. I’m always off
on club-lined streets.

I’ve seen dragons, dolls,
and the Keys. I’ve tried on
heels, and felt dragon’s steam.

So find me, dragon, with my
drag queens. Find me, try
and drag me, please.

Dragon was originally published in The Yale Herald on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.