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“The Reluctant Guest by Stewart Stafford My hand extended to an off-the-grid stray; Yet, still he scowls, And smacks it away. Near-gone from the world, His blindfold horizon quails, That veteran heart stiffens, As frozen asphalt exhales. A ghost at his own funeral, Thwarting hopes of a life— Institutionalised in cement, A fold in warm cardboard strife. Frontal assault to backdoor pivot: Dinner in his mother’s memory. A toothless grin at my tactic, A bridge to nourishing festivity. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.” — Stewart Stafford
The Reluctant Guest by Stewart Stafford
My hand extended
to an off-the-grid stray;
Yet, still he scowls,
And smacks it away.
Near-gone from the world,
His blindfold horizon quails,
That veteran heart stiffens,
As frozen asphalt exhales.
A ghost at his own funeral,
Thwarting hopes of a life—
Institutionalised in cement,
A fold in warm cardboard strife.
Frontal assault to backdoor pivot:
Dinner in his mother’s memory.
A toothless grin at my tactic,
A bridge to nourishing festivity.
© 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.