Poem Series: Alcohol


A warm lion curls up
In the pit of my stomach His claws retracted
His breathing labored. He yawns
Licks the side of my belly affectionately Sleeps for just a minute. Slowly stands, crawls up my throat and into my head Purrs quiet nonsense through my skull. I strain to hear
But am lost in the primal roar Erupting so suddenly, yet curiously, I find that the entire time I have been anticipating
The lion’s glorious noise. Forever do I marvel at its swirling meaning
Just beyond my reach Grasping for its truths as it runs hot through my being.

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