sunday afternoon

by Leigh Winters

It is Sunday afternoon

My mom presses flowers into a

National Geographic magazine

I’ve had coffee and a mountain dew and 

Still a migraine protests on the tops of

My temples

It has the audacity to ask for more caffeine

The orange red or cuphea petals

Against the faded print

My mom closes the magazine

Leigh Winters is a 27-year-old poet. When she's not writing, she's doing Zumba, cuddling her cat, listening to loud music, and watching bad horror movies.