poetry by j matthew waters

all kinds of new boxes

back in the day
there was but two or three voices
taking up my cerebral space

over the years they fastidiously
multiplied without anyone’s guess

instinctively I learned to compartmentalize
them on their own terms

to the point where they just sat there
boxed in & seemingly content
to converse with just themselves

fearing I had silenced them once & for all
I thoughtlessly redisclosed the terms
soon thereafter finding myself
recreating new kinds of boxes
each one shaped uniquely
be it made of wood or metal or seashell

september two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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