Candle, Dragon

Mother saw my new eyes
contemplating the candle flame.
You were that once, she said.
 
A candle? I asked.

No, a flame.
Your brother is an ember now.
 
I touched her massive stomach,
where his foot or his fist kicked
at my imprudence. I looked into her
shining eyes -- suddenly damp -- and asked,
Are you a dragon?

Then she was laughing and crying,
sobbing and laughing.
No, she said.
I am the happy candle.

Why aren't you a dragon? I demanded.

She smoothed my hair and said, Sweetie,
a dragon keeps a flame inside,
unless she makes it a weapon.
A candle lets her flame be seen
and even shared.