I prefer to call deception –
that duplicitous imposter
born of self-aggrandizement
amid seasons of otherwise warm
dispositions – a fraud
whose hazy outline bleeds lies
like smoke
as mirrors
portend a vague shadow
of a home where earthly browns fade
to nothing,
his intent from the start.
The fox who outfoxes (or do
I mean outguiles?) no one cannot
reach the tree, leaving
with only sour grapes, paws scratched
among the pretense. Thorns stir us
from the artifice,
pedals dissolving
like smoke
as windows
stubbornly refuse to reflect
angled shadows
in a home where truth fades
to nothing,
and we arrive at the end.
(c) 2019 by Phillip Knight Scott
My response to dVerse Poets Pub Poetics: Smoke and Mirrors
Often Mumbled Musings 
Hi Phillip, I loved the finale of your poem, yes we’ll get there in the end……
Great see you are a fellow ‘Whovian’
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I got such a chill when reading the lines,
“as windows
stubbornly refuse to reflect
angled shadows”
I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m genuinely creeped out by those who play this game and who want to speak in code and deceive others. But we reap what we sow and when we can’t even be honest with ourselves, well then…
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Ah, Phillip, brilliantly said!
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