Poetry by Clem Flowers

           ​  R. Miller CC



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POSTCARD FROM A STUCKEY'S JUST OUTSIDE DUCHESNEY

Dim green glow
 of the “NO VACANCY” light
Breaks a drunken stupor
For the 3rd red rock night
Spent what was left of the cash
He promised you were his #1 guy
It would be alright 
Knew he was destined for greater
Than the old town work song
So you cracked the safe with a Mag-Lite
Perks of trust after
 5 years as the meat man 
at the 7th Street Save Right
Shot out of town in a rust colored Coupe De Ville
Had some fun
Had Daddy’s gun
& overpriced tequila on a Tuesday
Now, he has a dry gulch bed
Bullet in his head
& you’re left wondering why 
Hush
Sweet baby, don’t you cry
Drink a little more bourbon- go back to bed
Drown out the death rattle 
As the neighboring cattle
Sing you a prairie lullaby





SOMEDAY A CLEANSING RAIN WILL COME FOR ALL US GOOD SPACE COWBOYS

Catalog jeans
& $ 20 worth of longnecks 
& you might start to think
You own this town
Unbridled ball of turquoise twine 
Shaking
Beneath golden flickers of street light
Cottonmouths & nightcrawlers
Give you the right of way-
After all, what good
Would it do 
To be cruel
To one of their own?
Barren lord
Of the rusted promise
Speckled along the horizon
Like the souvenir bricks
From Fulton Stadium
That loiter on the walls
Of every pawn shop
In a five mile radius 
Once scalpers realized
The real money
Was in if you managed 
To snag one of the seats
Before they razed it all
To a parking lot
& a symbolic painting
Of where home plate once stood
Right beneath
Your staggered eye line
All as you try to drown 
The loathing
For the cathedrals
That arise
From your every step
& yet
You keep walking

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Clem Flowers is a nonbinary, queer southern transplant, living out amongst southwest mountains with my wife & adorable kitty. Fond of flamingos, orchids, coffee with too much sugar, and ancient TV shows & movies. Can be found @hand_springs777 on Twitter. 

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