She sits in front of me
A row away to the right,
Draped in those ebony locks
A vision of cherubic perfection.
She sits over hunching,
Looking from time to time,
Away from ardent page
Where she talks to herself
Through loops of tribal sketches.
Talking of overt authority
And the people’s consent,
And their leaders true
And their killer’s moves,
What spins in your mind?
I ask thee classmate,
Girl with the dragon tattoo.
For it caught my eye
First and foremost,
That snaking shape
That reared grandly
Across her left shoulder,
Swirling from under dress
In one long sinuous curve.
O’ twisting Green Dragon
Why your fierce eyes,
Is that not thine guise?
Do you spurn thy mount,
And yearn for thine skies?
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