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poetry by j matthew waters

the resident alien next door


it’s been twenty-three years now
imagining the mice
stirring out back
once the fireball is nearly extinguished

everything changes once the cat
is let out of the bag
the great horned owl looking on
stealthily
contemplating who may stay
& who must go

it’s scarier in late october
than early may
but only by a fraction

there are many things buried
in & around this place
some of them stone cold dead
& others still quite alive




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

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2 thoughts on “the resident alien next door

  1. John. Absolutely LOVE this piece. You say things without “saying” things.

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