poetry by j matthew waters


all around us
nothing but subtle changes
you’d think we’d be used to it by now
but there’s no floor or ceiling
and everything in between
seems to be up for grabs

I heard her singing on the radio
for the very first time
enchanting me with promises
and reworking my daydreams
to the point where I’m afraid
to fall asleep at night

it’s as if my inner voice
has been taken hostage
bulleted by rhetorical questions
taking me beyond the beginning
only to have me somersaulting
further into the future

september two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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