poetry by j matthew waters

caller unknown

I clear my throat
but am unable to speak
for the words which were meant for you
have grown silent

I try not to wonder where you are
or why you’ve chosen
not to appear in the places
where you are known to gather
try not to put much stock in the fact
that you could be in harm’s way
or in the arms of a lover

every now & then the phone will ring
but I’ve grown accustomed
not to answering it
—it’s just a number I say to myself
and highly unlikely
one of a few I used to know

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

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