poetry by j matthew waters

inside the apothecary shop

here we remain at an impassable place
a sheet of glass preventing us
from moving forward
as if we’ve become prisoners
without a sentence
unaware that the trap was devised
by an otherworldly hand

having lost our wings
we remain very much alive
recalculating & redistributing
the wealth of knowledge
to the very best in their fields
who expeditiously formulate
that which will burn through glass

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

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