Waking up

She can pierce the sky with a sideways glance — leaves scatter in her eyes & with a gust I taste a coconut lime- freckled shoulder painted for Autumn. Then with a smile she reminds the sun to hang a medal on the morning & I memorize the way the light sprinkles delight on her…

I come undone

My favorite sweatshirt has a thread I tug without thinking because my hands need something to do while my mind dives into warmer waters. She blushes when I tell her I like her ponytail hair loosed around her face as if someone creased a ribbon to tie a gift just for me. She smiles when…

Suspended in air

She is dangling in the afternoon like Autumn on the breeze, painting the horizon in her favorite colors. I like to think the purples are just for me as they frame the greens on trees she’s allowed to stay a little longer. October finds a way of fanning its leaves until the hills burn with…

I should buy a cowboy hat

As she counted off her medical history one swollen finger at a time, I saw that feral cat still self-conscious enough to clean herself with her tongue. There are always more cats & daylight doesn’t dim fireworks. I hear them calling me, the sun making an apprentice of the moon but still chasing the dark…


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About Me

Phillip Knight Scott is a native of Durham, North Carolina, where he lives, writes, and watches old episodes of Doctor Who. He’s only recently published his first collection of poems: Paint the Living, Plant the Dead. His poems have appeared in numerous publications including Galway Review, Vita Brevis Press, Olive Skin, Spillwords, and others.

His debut novel, The Alien in the Backseat, is available on Amazon.

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