Golden Vine
Every eye keeps down at the burning stones & fresh bricks along the golden line tin promise of dream
lights burst out the greenery on the abandoned tire yard
neon
spits show lights
in the heart of dandelion salad
behind
the red rock fence
mornings of
bird song & trash compactors
blister blue on the
flares of clover
while the winded paths
echo
into the night
carving imperfect hearts
& shaky smiles
on a charcoal wall
as memories
of the lavender
& pepper trees
that used to stand
along the roadside
push & pull
on the forgotten crown
blanched eyes
of the bloom in the
gullet
of red rock towers
shut the door of
racing moonlights
while we smile
at the madness
of the endless carnival
in the Days Inn that had been
abandoned
since that
grease fire
broke out
& wonder
if that will be the
reason
anyone ever comes to our town
Forearm Lariat
Blue ink hands are gently cradling apples out in the rolling goat grass the mill left as a peace offering for
the abandoned factory town
You pulled out a utility knife from your military surplus jacket & split the bounty with me
We ate in silence as we took in the sight of the abandoned thrasher being slowly defeated by moss &
curling vines of some unknown origin, though you figured it was some offshoot of nearby pecan trees
You gently moved closer, claiming a sudden chill, and I took it at face value, even as my sweat soaked
thru my tattered green button up shirt I'd just picked up that morning from a thrift store
A lone owl called out to the hanging fog
I felt the touch of lips I'd longed for over so many haze dry nights out in thy sugarcane grove
Sitting
Wishing
Waiting
For you to call for me the way I'd heard you do for so many that never did you right, that always took
advantage, that left you lonesome like me
Those lips finally touched mine and under that gliding, pregnant cherry moon, we sobbed with smiles
as we confessed the love that left so many folded into oblivion by the judgemental eyes in our
hometown, which still proudly boasted of its enlistment numbers back during the days of
Appomattox & Antietam & Honest Abe & "Dixie"
drank deep the somber shimmer of the kudzu under the rusted stars as we finally caved to the urges our
churches promised would grant us a smiling welcome party on the other side by Charon & Lucifer
Our hunger finally came to the forefront of our exhausted hearts like fireworks over a fairground.
We were devoured with an unholy joy.
Clem Flowers (They/ Them) is a soft spoken southern transplant living in spitting distance of some mountains in Utah. In an eternal search for the perfect sweet potato fry. Nb, bi, and queer as the day is long, they live in a cozy apartment with their wonderful wife & sweet calico kitty. They can be found on Twitter at @hand_springs777