poetry by j matthew waters

when reaching for ice cream

he kept repeating once the paint had dried
pink would turn into salmon

neither salmon nor lake trout made it here alive
but the crabs sure arrived on time
and we showered them with
praise and boiling water

meanwhile in the basement
the freezer chest hums along
keeping solid that which may never thaw

august two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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2 thoughts on “when reaching for ice cream

  1. 1. gross 2. poignant

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