poetry by j matthew waters

the gray room

the communication
has been spotty
mostly due to
long fought wars
& some climate change

I was told to go to my
gray room & there I stay
a prisoner of my own mind
solving rubik’s cube
after rubik’s cube
but unable to temper & tame
not a single thing
not a cat nor a mouse
neither a mangy canine
nor bengal tiger

I have paper & pencil
& there is a slot that
wants to be a window
one that gives & takes
one that admonishes
in one breath
& forgives in another

at least the gray room
is no longer white

I like it that way

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

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