The meadow pulses,
breeze breathe
bee stings.
You suck in through your nose
knowing
no matter who’s killing
dying
the headlines can’t reach you
here with the bluebonnets.
Away from stop signs
cement
you convince yourself
beer-breathed hunters don’t perch
in the tree line,
littering the Earth
bullet molts.
Take only pictures, leave only
shotgun shells
forest green Dos Equis shards.
It’s hard to grapple with the sins of your people,
so bathe in the blue
while you can
before the trucks come
to pour black sludge
over lavender peddles
and spray on the yellow lines
the highway.
Tyler Lemley (they/them) is a queer, Texan poet with a degree in Theatre Arts and English from the University of the Incarnate Word in San Antonio, Tx. They have been published in Fourteen Hills, The Tusculum Review, Black Fox Literary, and elsewhere. They were a finalist for the Pinch Literary Award.