Unexisting Poem by rose higgins

He sleeps in his world
of nonexistent.
Never knowing when it's day or when it's night.
He's as lazy as that old man on the couch,
or as that little girl who always pouts.

Why should he not be?
The trumpets of Geall
have not been called.
So he would not stall
the other dragons
of Faerie Falls.

Yet, as he stirs
the goddess Morrigan of the existing earth
walts in and blows her trumpet
of battle.

He jumps up gleefully
that dragon of Geall
and goes past Tuatha de Danaan
to the earth of knowing and Samhain
and takes his place as part
of the Celtic claddaugh, to fight for the innocent.

Yet, in the end he dies, that unexisting dragon,
with the pride of an American soldier
for he soared an Irish one.