poetry by j matthew waters

a good place to die

the fever has been reaching
a pitch

cotton swabs collecting

secured inside test tubes

the university hospital
has witnessed
so much turnover

I apply for a job

three credit checks later
I’m tossing lime tablets
inside toilets

some keep smoking
just outside the premises

I volunteer to pick them up
but I’m finding
there is no place to hide

I’m finding all I know
this is a decent
enough place to die

may two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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