poetry by j matthew waters

number nine doesn’t live here

you rarely recall that night
you should have died
yet every time it surfaces
you completely understand
how kissing the world goodbye
is as simple as
landing on your feet

you imagine you were born
a feline with siamese blood
running through your veins
a cool cat who’s been
around the block six or seven
or eight times
but certainly not nine

crouched behind a waning moon
you patiently wait for hope to rise
above the horizon
feeding your mind with
giving you courage to carry on
yet another day

december two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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7 thoughts on “number nine doesn’t live here

  1. First stanza is a knockout – a poem on its own. Enjoyed your reading as well. —Chagall

  2. “a feline with siamese blood”

    I imagined someone whose shadow was more present than their body. Great job!

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