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By Allan Lake


Better to wake up

a few moments before death,

even to discover yourself astride

a lame donkey with a silly name.

Dismount, share a laugh with idle,

a less than ideal means of transport.

Life wasn’t wasted at the rat racetrack.

This was your fate.

Behold it for the

punchline with yoke that it was.

Never headed anywhere, you.

That much is clear but there’s

a story to tell, only you need to decide

if you want to rhyme …

or sing it! As in opera. You own this moment and Flash,

that donkey will witness the finale

as he snorts and tugs at grass.


Originally from Saskatchewan, Allan Lake has lived in Vancouver, Cape Breton I., Ibiza, Tasmania, Perth, and Melbourne. Lake won the Lost Tower Publications (UK) Competition, 2017 and the Melbourne Spoken Word Poetry Festival / The Dan, 2018. He is the author of the poetry collection: Sand in the Sole (Xlibris, 2014) and the chapbook: My Photos of Sicily (Ginninderra Press, 2020). His work has also appeared in New Philosopher, 2020.


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