There’s not enough coffee in the pantry
to poison the nightmare flower
growing inside my mind this Monday morning –
a menacing thought blooming in shadows.

What phantoms creep in darkness,
wakeful vigils watching
through keyholes while moonless skies sway
then give way
to the quiet sun cheering for someone to hear?

The sun is too loud.

She dropped the seeds in my ear while I was sleeping
then evaporated, leaving me
a farmer diluted, hosing my brain with
caffeine while my wetter winks paint sorrow
in neat rows not yet tilled.

What blossom sprouts in dejection,
rotten and unwanted
I sit wishing the sun would retreat or retract
or simply retrace its steps in reverse?

(c) 2019 by Phillip Knight Scott

I remember reading this book years ago in one of my first English classes at UNC and, as one of my first exposures into liberal, feminist art, it made an impression.

Phillip Knight Scott lives in North Carolina with his wife and 3-year-old son, who has been frustratingly developing his own opinions on everything. At least for the next year, Phillip is on the right side of 40. (Both the interstate and existence in years). By day he works for a software company but has been writing for decades and only recently decided to pursue publishing them to an audience.  You can read more of Phillip’s writing at Reverie in reverse