bullets in the pantry
soup is on the stovetop
italian vegetable
burner set between
medium low
and simmering
outside it’s snowing
inch after inch after inch
ever since early morning
still waiting for plow
to come rolling through
on the kitchen counter
handwritten letter
remains left unfolded
kept in place by
handgun paperweight
there’s a candle burning
on a nearby table
house cat scratching
at the back door
pleading to get away
footsteps can be heard
pacing quietly
throughout the place
stir crazy perhaps
or simply bored to death
february two thousand nineteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
ooh, foreboding…
gimme back my bullets, Melanie!
NO! They are mine…now if i only had a gun….