The poison garden

The poison garden
always open for business;
no reassuring lock,
no drawbridged moat -
here be dragons in bloom.
My dragons,
readying for me
their gaping maws,
their singeing breath.
They remember my name
always, always,
when I’ve unforgotten theirs.
Speaking, belonging,
welcome home.
The path has no safe passage
no endearing charm
but calls with siren song,
in disguise of wonder,
to the adam in my soul.
The gate is closed
but my fingers
draw close to the handle.