Monday, September 15, 2008

Dragons Descending

Painting by Rick Mobbs

Dragons Descending

Mother Ship hovered
above her,
its struts and rivets aglow
with the rising
of the first sun
near the Mobbsian Gate
on Nogullis III;
the Dragon World.

Naomius was built
not bred,
standing 20 feet tall below,
her towering legs spread strong
in her killing stance,
with circuits and tiny lights
dancing neon rainbows
from ankle to metal midriff;
a blinking ruby
in her energy stabilizer port,
slightly indented,
exactly where a navel should be—
designed to resemble a female,
complete with Kevlar bikini
and breast cannons.

Dragons always were
attracted to women;
robotic women—
it did not matter to them;
eternally easier prey,
more vulnerable—
but not today.

She was a prototype,
Dragonhunter One,
and in her steely grasp
rested Thor’s Teeth,
a lethal lightning spear,
thirty feet of bombastic burn;
fully charged,
at the ready.
Her blue irises flashed,
scanning the deep orange sky;
her metal fists flexed
around the rod of redemption.
High above her
the dragon nets
were primed and ready to drop
over the Golden Lords
and the Rainbow Princes—
for they are highly prized
by all the cosmic zoos.

Her auditory sensors hummed
as she heard them,
heard their great wings flapping
just over the dark horizon—
a dragon flock,
a hundred of them
flying straight toward her
out of glare of the sun.

She stood at the cliff’s edge,
with the wicked wind whipping
her raven metallic tresses
into a rapid dance,
waving like banners of war,
with her calmly checking
the rod settings,
cataloging and anticipating
which dragons
to stun,
and which to slay.

When they came into sight,
they seemed to fill the sky
with their rambunctious roaring,
and frantic wing beating.

Suddenly the lead flyers
detected their prey
and the entire flock
clicked into formation,
like a fiery arrowhead
hurling hotly
directly at this lone female;
their ungodly shrieking
shook the still morning air.

Naomius stood steadfast,
not programmed for failure;
more than ready
for her first meeting
with the fire-breathing denizens
of this world.

Glenn A. Buttkus September 2008

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