a poem by Zach King-Smith

The Rose In The Lion's Mouth

i
left

the
bar
around

a
quarter

of
one

the
bottles

really
worked

their
way

in

i
walked a
few
blocks

to
catch

a
cab

i
gave

the
address

&
sunk
into

the
back
seat

the
night

was
spinning
around

in
my
head

i
had

work
in a few
hours

i
didn't

have
the money

to
make

it
all
the

way
home

so
the cabbie

threw

me
out

a
few

miles

down
the road

my
knees

were
weak

but

i
hoofed

it
anyway

all
the
while

feeling
the strain

of
exhaustion

i
got

home

and
laid

down

on
a bed

of
no
roses

&
slept

knowing

full
well

that
the lions

will
be waiting

for
me
in

the
morning

with
teeth

that
glisten

like
the sun.

© by Zach King-Smith
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #10 ~ July 2010    return to top