RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN

 

Nature’s Three Pumper

 

The lilac in bloom does not last long.

Nature’s three pumper.

I’m surprised the ladies are so smitten with it.

The smell, yes, the smell…

But it’s done as soon as it has started.

And the way it hangs so sluggish and limp when it is finished.

Hell, I can do that.

 

Crop Circles

 

as though modern agriculture has too much time

on its hands:

 

with the industry failing,

there is a need to generate excitement,

I get that

 

in much the same way retired athletes

release sex tapes

with their best days behind

them.

 

Closet

 

I am a closet.

 

A closet that has eaten something it shouldn’t have

and now the vomit is coming out.

 

It is brown, largely liquid.

Coming out of the closet in spurts.

 

There is also an old laptop in there

and a few hats.

 

And some Hawaiian shirts on hangers

that do not fit anymore.

 

And an old faux wood desk that is no longer used.

 

But all of that stays inside.

Never coming out.

 

My painted sliding door mouth running

off its tracks

again.

 

RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN

 

RYAN QUINN FLANAGAN is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Our Poetry Archive, Setu, Literary Yard, and The Oklahoma Review.