poetry by j matthew waters

winter migration

it may be the same song but
absolutely not the same dance

I’m not looking to tell a story
beneath downtown streetlamp
shining brightly on a particular corner
young hopeless couple
dancing to piped-in music and
big fat snowflakes
falling down at midnight

in mid december crows
grow in numbers along the river
where homeless often roam along
natural and artificial lights

sirens often interrupt airwaves
screaming across bridges
troopers and fire trucks and ambulances
chasing down their own stories

there is a small fire down below
keeping warm the cold
occasional small talk sometimes
turning angry
questioning the powers that be

december two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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