Strange Fruit

And when we stand still

So too does the shadow

Faithful to a fault,

following footstep to footstep

Black as the night,

picking cotton clouds like

strange fruit plucked from

the boughs of poplar trees

But when the sun hangs still,

the shadow flies free

when the high noon chimes,

just a minute of eclipse

Free like daylight,

singing hymns of paradise lost

strange fruit flung from

the boughs of poplar trees

Keep your shadows close

for they will slip away

when the time is right

and the sun hangs like

High Noose.

About the Author

Jocelyn Royal is a senior Biology major with a minor in Creative Writing, and they have never been happier than to get to partake in this creative endeavor. They've previously been published in Quiddity, Phantasm, and The Machine Mag, and they're hopeful that they'll be able to continue writing even after they graduate.