Tonight's Poet Corner: Number Of The Beast

Number Of The Beast
by Belinda Roddie

If you can't count to ten,
count to seven instead,
just to combat the demons
inside of your head. They're all
drinking espressos and reading
their Kafka, while
the old men are prone
and still sleeping off vodka.

So count up to seven,
and hope for the moment
the angels will show up
and fight off the omens.
They're smoking their stogies;
"Sorry," they intone. "This
is your game to play, kid -
you're now on your own."

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