poetry by j matthew waters

stoning at six forty-five

the energy is real but does
not transcend time
instead you are left suspended
like a lone cirrus cloud

back down to earth
you accept the challenge
seven shots of tequila
all lined up in a pretty row

to be stoned to near death
in this day & age
has become as common
as the common cold
whether voluntarily
or otherwise

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

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