poetry by j matthew waters

through these walls

the seasons turned but I wasn’t ready for it
I was too busy looking back on the
opportunities I had squandered
brushed aside like slight inequities
rotting into things undone

I knew the snowblower in the garage
wouldn’t start so I put a blanket over it

I brought in the shovels from the shed

the snow may be the death of me I told myself
but I’ll be damned if I can’t still dig

I wasn’t ready to go back into the house
so I pulled out a beer from the fridge
and sat on the workbench
vague images of things undone coming
to mind and mixing with telephones
ringing through these walls

november two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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3 thoughts on “through these walls

  1. That snow blower needs a proper wake.

  2. Shovels works fine usually..

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