shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Nels Hanson


Flowers at Night

The gifted die disappointed, sad
their planted garden didn't fully
bloom, perfume the air and change

the scent of blood and pain to
rosemary, or elysium, that future
flower the dying hand reaches out

to grasp as night comes on. Then
the wise finally understand those
petals open only in the dark, by

a foreign sun. The moon is cool
and silver, devoid of heat, absolute
zero as atoms freeze and cease

to move and the mind plays God,
animates the dormant seeds into vast
beds of sudden and exploding stars.