Honeycrisp Hand Grenade

by J. Scott Lewis

The one with the brown rotting bruise
circling a pinprick hole. That is where the fuse goes.
It’s where little flies feast, sucking
tongues against fermented flesh.

They are of no consequence,

easily dispersed with a wave of a hand.

I could cut it away, dig into clean ivory tissue
remove the carbuncle from the core
find out how far the fuse descends below the crust
but what good would that do?

Once the fuse is lit there is no going back.

You cannot disarm what wants to explode.

Trapping a fly between my teeth,
I tear into foul flesh, softness oozing
into gums, sour rancid shape swirling
across my tongue like mud gliding downhill.

Red flak explodes against my tongue

shattering reverie into a million bites.

Still Life

Mosquito parades along my wall,
licking blue gray paint, high
step strutting peering into cracks.
It pauses on a grease stain that
resembles abraham lincoln opening a
can of sardines. I don’t remember
how it got there; I just recall that
it is old. Mosquito (pretend
art critic) ponders the portrait,
nods approval. I am sure his
review will create quite a buzz.

In no mood for art
I smash it against the
sardine can, framing it
against the key
adding its print to
my museum of melancholy.

BIO

J. Scott Lewis earned a B.A. in English from Bethany College, WV. He went on to earn a Ph.D. in Sociology from Bowling Green State University. He is the author of a textbook as well as numerous academic papers and book chapters. His creative writing has been published in Poetalk, The Harbinger, and the Eastern PA Poetry Review. He is a winner of the Writer’s Garret Common Language Project. His poem “Egret” is on display at the Detroit Lakes, MN, Poetry Walk from June through September 2025. He lives with his family in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

Photo by Graham Lewis Photography