One Dragon is Enough

Lying in bed this morning, half awake,

I felt as though I held an ancient Chinese seismometer

Elegantly enclosed within my ribs;

A trembling device with eight spitting dragons

And an equal number of gaping, expectant frogs,

Waiting to signal the slightest movement of the earth;

But not meant solely to sense the instability of solid ground.

No, one dragon is enough for that—

The one with the loudest frog—

To fearfully announce each authentic aftershock.

Still, of dragons, there are seven more—

One tallies every twitch of the sleeping dog beside me;

One registers each rattle of the nesting birds beneath the eaves;

One proclaims the pounding passage of the garbage truck;

One declares the dreadful depths of existential doubt;

One evaluates the edgy equilibrium of explanations;

One calculates the capricious cost of compassion;

And

One gauges the inexcusably gullible goodness of God.