Brian Clifton

The Elegy in Honey Since the summer transits, I drownmy need of salves and vitamin D. Honeyis the antithesis of time, so I gum my clock’s intricate gears with it.Since honey has frozen summer,I can summer, put it next to raspberrypreserves. Summer has filled glass with wind and kisses. Since kisses perfectonly in the pluperfect, I have fasted from kisses, feasting on honey alone.An apology for my regret –a transitorysticky summer kiss a lot like honey. So, I am Quetzalcoatl? I’m rack and pinion mourning morning’s minion met at the end, arm distended as sibyllinerope. I’m wrecked and weakened, rack-twisting nail of serpentine libertine, million-memed and dribbling. Quetzalcoatl, sheathe-less shelter, Shetland grind of ridge winding back black and red sumac; Quetzalcoatl, wrackful vermillionvermin, vex the virgin stretch; find tines toned in tin; intone whát yoú ám: brindle veined, and vine, and dragon— poisoned pall, pale cloth plied in palladium. I have out fucked foxes, Quetzacoatl. SicilianQuetzalcoatl, wincing in my pockets, posit your opinion: similar we are in drinking strychnine— the many racked for one perfect then. Brian Clifton lives in Kansas City, Missouri, where he walks most of the time.