poetry by j matthew waters

down on the farm

she thought she knew
the difference between
art and trash
but when her life
became such a mess
everything around her
became just plain wrong

I’ll be damned she thought
ripping up the dear john letter
if that racist poet hasn’t resorted
to exploiting sex slaves again

desperate for fresh air
she walks the yard
and spits on the ceramic pig
pissed at the world
and swearing to herself one day
someone will rescue her from
this godforsaken farm

march two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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