by Billy Lambent
This is not the first time I’ve smiled,
With the flower flush between my teeth,
and it won’t be the last.
A cryptogram for my jailer, the
Dog! He said I had no conscience.
This is not the first time I’ve smiled.
Outside 7/11, my time again to shine,
Antigone blush with the millet and the wine,
And it won’t be the last.
Enough with the struggle: Enough.
The flame’s shape is mine enough for me!
This is not the first time I’ve smiled.
At night I cried and cried. I asked Him
To take it from me. He said: this is forever
And it won’t be the last.
The garden hangs over my eyes,
leans down to embrace me like a mother:
This is not the first time I’ve smiled,
And it won’t be the last.
______
Billy Lambent is enjoying the weather. He has previously been published in Spectra, Dreck Lit, Apocalypse Confidential, and Hobart Pulp. He is on Twitter @absenceshell.
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