RECONSIDER WOUNDED COLORS

Your irises appear charred
by a forest fire you ignored.

But I never grieved for them
before my own eyes matured. 

Yours are not dead or greedy— 
they are the Mother sleeping. 

They are fragments 
of warm hearts, noticing. 

They are a wild autumn, 
skeletal in curiosity, scared 

of what comes next. I am 
only now seeing your potential

for becoming fertilizer. I sense
your eyes will ripen to blue, in time.

THE NATURE OF BEARS

Stars deliciously harvested and away from cold, the healing claws

in the black of wood, misunderstood as bloody-eyed haunting.  

Often, the cosmic gift, in growls, displays its stomach vulnerably soft.

In daylight it purrs songs of community and protection,

unknown to our homes.

We may hike endlessly on a mountain of starvation,

yet no dreams come until the bear comes gently.

Only then would we commune together

in those gardens of fear, enormous, with statues surrounding all.

They are painting healing hues...

not bloody.

Nicole Scott is a West Virginia native with an M.F.A in Creative Writing from Lindenwood University. She loves exploring wordplay, mythology, and sexuality in her work, while simultaneously debating on another double shot of espresso. She lives in Maryland with her partner and two cats, both of which are probably aliens. Her poetry and other published work can be found on her website nicolescottpoetry.com.