Fifths of Awe
by Clem Flowers
Cherry smoke light in the graffiti lot,
gliding like diamonds down Rain Hill & still,
we stay sweet in the dark.
Brothers of the broken bottle make amends in the melt of the final old chrysanthemum porch light.
"Lead us in the closing prayer" on the speakers
of the passing chiffon colored van
with the terrible muffler,
reminding them
of the street
they pulled from
& a sea of chrome wasn't enough
to fade to bulletproof
over the arm of neon falls,
but they still drank & laughed & sang & cried & fell asleep
with each other
like lump crabmeat
as the dawn
punched in over the panda trees.
Clem Flowers (They/ Them) is a soft spoken southern transplant living in spitting distance of some mountains in Utah. Maker of a fine omelet, but scrambled egg game needs some fine tuning. Nb & bi, they live in a cozy apartment with their wonderful wife & sweet calico kitty. They can be found on Twitter at @hand_springs777