By Christopher Rupley


Restless legs

burrow down,

mind dancing to the

left and right,

justifications running

rampant while

twitchy fingers run through

the thick of his beard


Brow raised high,

options considered,


and the inevitable

fight begins like


pulsing and constant,

patiently waiting for

the vessel’s prisoner

to trade its integrity

for guilt,

to spill his

reservoir of righteousness


Hands shaking,

rising from his

shackled seat,

he smiles wryly,

once again facing

the beast he

will soon defeat…


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