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A Poem by Ben Nardolilli

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 and is trying to publish his novels.

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