paperback hero

he slaughters weasels and orcs
along with Toad and Frodo,
he will tread
the heaving mists
that guard the fetid damp
clinging to the dragon's jewels

he knows the intimacy
of buckling a leather belt,
the swing of honed steel,
and the poor shelter
of a shield in the wall

and he can feel the pride
that comes
with standing at the crest
holding a blood spattered standard
while wearing the gore
of the vanquished

he does not herald
his accomplishments
nor feel the cut of pain

until he must put the book down
and wash the dishes
before the suds are cold

and curses at the prick
of a hidden blade