SLOW DANCING THROUGH THE BLOOD & WINE- SOAKED DIRT by Clem Flowers

Brush my teeth

by fridge light & wonder

if the Minotaur

really deserved all the bile & scorn

just doing work

they didn't care for- born

to live a lonesome gig

out in the marble & the fog

maybe

they craved the life of an architect

maybe they wanted to be a watchmaker

maybe maybe maybe

maybe they just wanted to

be able to just fly

something

anything

to bring a silk of joy

to their fading crown of laurels and nothing and

all of this

flashed to their sad doe eyes as

they felt Theseus

plunge polished silver

into their humors and as

the life left them

they looked up

to see the joy

on the face

of the kid

on the wax wings

glide

out along the horizon

& they laughed

one dream

got to bloom

from the soot

and dead dead heart

of the endless night

---

Clem Flowers (They/ Them) is a poet & soft spoken southern transplant living in a mountain's shadow in Utah. In an eternal quest to be the host in constant disbelief in an infomercial. Nb, bi, and queer as the day is long, they live in a cozy apartment with their wonderful wife & sweet calico kitty. Found on Twitter @clem_flowers