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poetry by j matthew waters

the color of her soul


the little farm girl
bespectacled
& tanned from the summer sun
walked out of the barn
chicken wire & snips in hand
skipped across the way
and entered the house
by way of the kitchen door

brushing back her yellow
tangled hair with the palms
of her hands
she sat at the kitchen table
working feverishly
as she shaped the wire
into a three dimensional heart
slightly smaller than her head

she tore strips of newspaper
and dipped them into
a flour-based paste she’d learned
to make at school
and speedily & completely covered
her hollowed out heart

she left it to dry on the window sill
whistling while cleaning up
the mess she had made
anxious to take it back into the barn
where she would paint it
the color purple





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

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