Dragon fan art by Frank Hong (http://frankhong.deviantart.com/)
BOBBY CRAWFORD
Swan Lake. 1994.
Oksana Baiul won the 1994 Olympic Figure Skating Championships by 1/10 of a point.
When Oksana Baiul goes driving, she’s always got Tchaikovsky playing. At red lights she closes her eyes,
sees Nancy Kerrigan skating her program.
She does it better. Doesn’t drag out that landing like shifting into second gear on cold mornings.
Okana looks at the gold medal hanging from her
rear view mirror. Remembers that television sportscaster
The world waited an hour
so Oksana could have her moment.
They say after Oksana won the olympics, it took forty minutes to calm her hysterics
and twenty to re-do her mascara. Nancy Kerrigan called her a little girl. Nancy Kerrigan said to her What’s the point. You’ll just go out and cry again,
Oksana never cries. She just wishes red lights changed faster.
She just drives too fast on two-lane winding highways,
even though that’s how she crashed. Even though, no because her mother died young. Sickness dropped her off a cliff so fast no amount of money could have saved her. Remembers
a ten-thousand dollar Vera Wang Kerrigan wore once. Remembers the pond her coach would take her to, make her watch the swans smooth their necks into
grappling hooks. Remembers sitting on hand-sewn feathers
in the kiss and cry. Galina I am sorry I could not be a swan.
Wasn’t talking about that landing. Never thinks about that landing - ha.
(Thinks about that landing. Thinks about that landing. Thinks about that landing. Thinks about that landing. Thinks of standing
on a three foot mountain while the Ukrainian national anthem plays).
Remembers how she sat backstage for about fifty-five minutes while olympic officials flipped through their cd collections thinking, What is the Ukrainian national anthem?
Remembers she was the first person from her country
to win the olympics -shit- she never forgets that. Never forgets
the day the doctors told her nothing could unstrip the flight from her hips. Never forgets how much she drinks. Never forgets anyone who has made,
or taken money from her. Never forgets her mother. Never forgets the hurling swan song of the first fifteen years of her life, or walking away from it. Never forgets this world does not wait even one hour for anyone.
You better believe Oksana Baiul has got places to be.
You better believe she’s got a big ass featherbed
and a whole library of Tchaikovsky. You better believe she lights up the road like a bat out of tomorrow.
You better believe one of these days, she’s gonna call up Nancy Kerrigan, say,
Hey, life is just an East German judge, man. Never know what it’s gonna throw at you.
Hey, let’s go skydiving sometime. Let’s go way too close to the sun.
For Daenerys Targaryen, Voice of A Motherfucking Generation
Khaleesi you are the prophet of my inner struggle.
Because every morning I wake up, I’m all like:
Where are my dragons?
In line at Dunkin’ Donuts,
trying to get to class on time,
Where are my dragons?
You better BELIEVE nobody cuts in line and steals my bagel,
(which they do, when my dragons aren’t around).
You better BELIEVE they don’t mess up my coffee
when I got DRAGONS
up in HERE.
Getting where I got to go in the city,
I’m sitting on the train, thinking,
You know what I would be doing right now if I knew where my dragons were at?
NOT SITTING ON THE B LINE LIKE SOME PEASANT.
I WOULD RIDE DRAGONS TO WORK AND SOCIAL OUTINGS.
When I’m enjoying Revere Beach and Chinatown and Grendel’s Den,
I try and enjoy them with the wonderful companionship of dragons.
Trying to cook a cup of noodles, late at night,
Where are my dragons?
Getting quizzical looks about my ID in liquor stores,
oh, it’s real, and SO ARE MY DRAGONS.
And quick social commentary here, but seriously,
how come you can drive a car as young as 14 in some states,
or die for your country at 18,
but you got to be 21 to have dragons,
Amiright?
Amiright?
I even try to check my dragon privilege,
make sure I’m aware and of society’s gross dragon distribution inequality.
Those of us in the queer community, and working class labor unions,
and single parents,
and artists,
Where are our dragons?
Daenerys, it seems,
when only a few people have dragons,
everybody else is seriously fucked.
Do you even pay taxes on your dragons?
For real though,
if I had a dragon,
I. Would. Have. The
BIGGEST DRAGON BURGER BARBECUE
and ALL Y’ALL’S INVITED.
I bet dragon meat tastes delicious.
Like freedom.
Like fraternity.
Like panda and polar bear.
Bobby Crawford is a senior in the honors department at Emerson College.
http://bostonpoetryslam.com/find-a-poet/poets/bobby-crawford