poetry by j matthew waters

on becoming a god

here I am again
magnifying glass in hand
examining the fly in the spiderweb
making fire with the sun

whether from a torn fingernail
or a crack in the porcelain
there’s plenty of room for anything
to enter or depart this biosphere

up close things look either worse
or beautifully exaggerated
like the death of the executioner
or my own facial striations

february two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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