CNF: Morning Stars
by Chris Clemens
I have things to worry about, but first I must unload the dishwasher, making sure that the plates don’t clink too much. I can’t wake everyone up to clatter downstairs into these quiet hazy sunbeams, to shatter my tenuous peace with their unavoidable messy living. Hopes and dreams begin and end with breakfast. And so the coffee mugs are gently placed into the cupboard, slowly enough that I can consider the printed rocket ship and angry morning bear, the summer sun shimmering through the window, the garden already under siege, heat waves rising against the noise wall like an unchecked tide on the horizon, yet still far away on the other side of that wall so calm down already or I’ll shatter another mug on the floor. Cutlery jingles, each utensil placed into a plastic-moulded sense of order, comforting and restorative until the last spoon is neither large nor small, but something in-between. In a dream I might open the back door and throw this irregular spoon outside into the sweltering garden, as if to say: see? Look what you made us do. This categorically difficult spoon is your problem now, because we have worse things to worry about. In my dream I might scream something like this, irrationally, disturbing the neighbours. In reality I would dig the weird spoon out of the wilting tomato plants and tenderly return it to the dishwasher, terrified of what the raccoons might be capable of, equipped with such a tool. In reality I would never scream at all. Screaming might wake everyone up.
Chris Clemens teaches and writes in Toronto, where he has defeated 8.5 raccoons (with help from his wonderful family). Nominated for Best Small Fictions and Best of the Net, his stories and poems appear in Best Microfiction 2026, The Literary Review of Canada, Baffling Magazine, Year’s Best Canadian Fantasy and Science Fiction, and elsewhere. Find more at linktr.ee/clemenstation.
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What surprising, fascinating stuff can you tell us about the origin, drafting, and/or final version of “Morning Stars”? Despite many 4 am bedtimes in my past, somehow I’m a morning person now, concurrent with becoming a parent. I often doom out about heated matters like wildfires while auto-piloting through routine daily tasks, and it’s quite the experiential combo (“Am I still in some kinda weird nightmare”, etc). Morning Stars started as a stream-of-consciousness piece about these strange, quiet moments. I tweaked it for several months, and then Matter Press cut the final line – an improvement!
Check out the write-up of the journal in The Writer.
Matter Press recently released titles from Meg Boscov, Abby Frucht, Robert McBrearty, Tori Bond, Kathy Fish, and Christopher Allen. Click here.
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Submissions
Poetry, creative nonfiction, and fiction/prose poetry submissions are now closed. The reading period for standard submissions opens again September 15, 2025. Submit here.
Upcoming
05/04 • Leath Tonino
05/11 • Chris Pellizzari
05/18 • Chris Clemens
05/25 • Clayton Eccard
06/01 • TBD
06/08 • TBD
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06/22 • TBD
06/29 • TBD
07/06 • TBD
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07/27 • TBD
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09/14 • TBD
09/21 • TBD