The Real King
In the castle, the bath is drawn,
they call it a moat,
I call it an open house
and slither on by the portcullis
Some say the man in the crown
is God’s representative,
I muddy his robe
and say he is God’s bookend
Around the towers they chase
a so-called criminal,
a stranger to me,
and I tell them I am the real king
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, The Northampton Review, Local Train Magazine, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. He blogs at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is trying to publish his novels.
Comentários