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poetry by j matthew waters

the nine mercenaries


he looked like the kind of cat
who always hung out
and nobody really noticed
sinking into a piece of furniture
worn out by cheetos and
baked over the years
by ultraviolet rays

on occasion
and for months on end
he would vanish
monthly rent payments
arriving like clockwork inside
legal envelopes postmarked from
cairo or algiers or timbuktu

eventually returning he
managed to escape headlines
and ticker tape parades
opting to stealthily appear
in his favorite spot
licking his wounds and
counting down the days



october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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6 thoughts on “the nine mercenaries

  1. Shawna on said:

    I love reading this as if it’s literally about a cat. 🙂

  2. I have heard of garden gnomes doing this…

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