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poetry by j matthew waters

Blackhole


In the morning
everything is neat & tidy
a round of robins
hanging out in the pear tree

People on the outside
briefly look in but back off
the white light from within
intensifying into sudden darkness

Years later passersby
seem to take to the new windows
how they make
the manicured grass
take on a certain shade of green





january two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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2 thoughts on “Blackhole

  1. the creepy house…..

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