three in the morning
I call my brother
he doesn’t pick up because
he doesn’t recognize the number
I say he should start drawing again
suddenly there’s crackling
maybe some laughter
two or three or four of them
speaking in tongues
telling me to shut the fuck up
I put the phone down
find myself moonwalking across
the newly polished laminate floor
out on the terrace deck
I breathe in the outside air
all the voices
gradually fading away
the koi in the pond below
beginning to jump for joy
november two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
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