An Uphill Espresso Machine
by Benjamin Morgan

Bright red bombs in the
garden, pulling down
trip wires
On blades thick with
harsh dew

I'm wearing two pairs of socks
It's January
Waiting for you to wake up
In love
I tell the lawn chair
Pink, that you sit in

Paper weather men
describe systems to me
my eyes like ears
like morning

Who
the Sun
I answer defiantly
over again
Parroting metaphors for
base energy
but

my wheels turn too fast
you come around
to stop the
spokes for a second