The Roach At The Bottom Of The Wine Glass

a poem

Photo by Lance Reis on Unsplash

I didn’t know that
the last joint
was going to be
my last joint

until I found the roach
at the bottom of the red wine glass
the next morning

when I poured it out
into the sink
and the stench
and rot
of the last roach
made me realize
marijuana
had become
like a cockroach
eating away at my mind
heart, body, and soul

I’ve stood here before
many times
and I stand here
once again

the addiction that courses generations
has run its course
because it ends here

I guess I really did
chase the demons
away
at least for today.

Lindsay Soberano-Wilson is the editor of Put It To Rest. Casa de mi Corazón: A Travel Journal of Poetry &…