poetry by j matthew waters

house across the street

it seems a ghost I know may be dying
once firmly grounded
has suddenly opened second story windows
red curtains flowing outward like fire
white doves waiting in the wings

I was sitting on the front porch
right across the street
rocking on the slider and sipping
arnold palmers and drawing
cigarette smoke to my lungs

at first a single entity easily escaped
but as time quietly passed
locusts hungrily congregated
wailing and screaming and extolling
forming their very own shadow

I watched dumbfoundedly
their storm drifting northwesterly
saying under my breath ‘good riddance’
knowing it was just a matter of time
before new neighbors rolled in

august two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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