poetry by j matthew waters

two in hand

see there the man in the bush
what could he possibly want
with a bird in hand

in broader light
the bird could be nothing
but two stones
talkative & strikingly glossy

one in each hand
he releases them to the gods
like the whitest of doves
forever bound to the firmament
occasionally returning to earth

november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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