The Northville Review
an online literary journal
Christ the King Locker Room

Kenneth Pobo

At the gym I’m told that I need a code
to enter the locker room which must be
guarded from ghosts of old treadmill walkers.

There’s no shower. You have to go
to another locker room a floor down for that.
I wonder about Christ The King. How cool

to have a locker room named for you.
Can’t he enter without a code? Fade
through the wall—if anyone wants

to steal from him, he’d know already. So far
I haven’t seen him there. Perhaps
he sees me but, the quiet type, he tries

not to be in my way. Sneakers
and jock straps, what a place for him
to spread some heaven. I think I heard him

coming out of a spigot. It could have been
Betty White for all I know. Dressed
and ready for my “work out,” I leave

Christ The King for the stationery bike,
John the Baptist rowing
so fast that the whole gym floats away.

About the author

Kenneth Pobo has one partner, three cats, ten orchids, and does one radio show on Saturdays. He's currently reading THE BLOODY CHAMBER by Angela Carter. And listening to the 5 Stairsteps 1969 album, now on CD.