Fruit
The fire reveals the fruit,
clearing away
the brush so we can fight
our way to the heart
(maddening
though I can be) where
the truth burns blue.
The fruit tastes sweeter
for the journey,
singe marks hinting at a past
enlivened by flame
(sticky
though it may be) that
clings to us both.
Old habits
They fell into old habits,
not as pleasant
as falling into
each other’s arms,
older but still mysterious,
familiar
if only in dreams.
We fall where we must,
some select a home,
others are merely
bright red
and yellow leaves in autumn,
familiar
if merely a memory.
Gravity weighs on us all,
tugging us into orbits
cycling through
revolutions,
resolved to find joy in
familiar —
this perfect space.
Beach breath
The sea shares
its handsome breath with us,
trying to juke a path
around us, lonely guards
on the shore amid
crabs and other warriors.
We took the beach
for what it intended:
sandy exhaust
under a brilliant sun,
dry until
the next wave.
23. Moonraker
In just 15 years (and 9 movies) we’ve gone from Bond escaping a slow moving laser using his watch to literal laser fights in space. We’ve replaced henchmen falling over rails a few stories inside of an army base with henchmen exploding in space and plummeting hundreds of miles to earth. Special effects and extraterrestrial settings replace small scenes and fist fights inside an elevator. Bigger and bloated.
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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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