Eleven A.M.

Saturday morning, trying to practice the customs

Of the successful person I want to be,

So I eat a bagel as if I’m living in New York,

Then go up to my room

As if this is my house and my room

Is the master bedroom which all domestic life

Revolves around, myself a patriarchal sun

Hanging above the kitchen, parlor, and study,

Up there, I pretend I have lovers

From situations past and present,

Who bring their nude bodies on and off my bed,

And when I am finished I go to the kitchen

Where I stretch my notes, keyboard,

Arms, and hands, to begin working on works

Which everyone in my imagination wants to read.

–Ben Nardolilli

Ben currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, THEMA, Pear Noir, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. You can find his blog here, and he is looking to publish a novel.

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