In that too late starbit night
My head dogged
By orange peels &
God's rays
sweet summer
Out by the garbage dump
In the formerly plush
pepper tree grove
All as the
graveyard shift desk clerk
Tried his best
to brighten the halogen catacombs
With cock rock &
Cheap diet coke can bong water
& you told me of your dreams
To pet a coyote
Under a ocotillo
As we stepped
to the plated brass balcony
& the jar of JFK silver dollars
I pocketed
in the glass mountains
Brings us closer every year
To the cinnamon fences,
High pastures of twilight sugarcane
left somewhere out on
The beltway roadside;
"A place to have all our panic attacks
In peace."
You laugh in that way you have
That sounds like
honey
caressing sunflowers
In a forgotten meadow
Just after a light rain
& I feel the tears start in
But I can still
See the fireflies
Even through the fog
& I swear I can hear
From the room beneath ours
"Sunday Morning"
On repeat
Clem Flowers (They/ Them) is a soft spoken southern transplant living in spitting distance of some mountains in Utah. They enjoy cooking, watching old films, and frequently visiting a local bird sanctuary. Nb & bi, they live in a cozy apartment with their wonderful wife & sweet calico kitty.