poetry by j matthew waters

telephone lines

they spoke to one another by way of make-believe telephone lines
not at all like two tin cans connected by a piece of string
stretching from easter island to omnipresent moon

blessed is she who shakes off advances and terms of endearment
instead recognizing all the misfits on the receiving end
reinventing children’s games with wild abandon

and of course with wild abandon comes boisterous laughter
speeding faster than sound through those make-believe lines
the ones stretched from sea to belly of waning gibbous

october two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: