poetry by j matthew waters

portrait of an artist

you’ve a fearless imagination she tells him
as he positions himself at the easel
placing certain charcoals on the tray

you’re beautifully sublime this morning he replies
I love what you’ve done to your eyes
but please stay relaxed and keep talking to me
and hold that cigarette up just a little higher

I’ve been so bored lately she exhales
cloud of smoke drifting toward the back light
her neck craning backwards
her head dropping back on the futon
jet black hair sinking into white pillow

I know dear I know he says
sketching feverishly
stopping ever so briefly for a mouthful
of homemade farm fresh ale

I’ve missed you she says
but you’re always coming and going
you never have time for me anymore

yes yes yes he says
please pull your slip up just a little higher
I need to feel more of your inner mystique

august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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