poetry by j matthew waters


I’ve become blind
or have I become
drifting [not walking]
from room to room
searching for the fly
buzzing in my ear
surely it must have
another night

the light reflects
in my eyes
though they are closed
a cold wind
transforming into drafts
[throughout this place]
abetting the fly
that sleeps at night
escapes my hand
by day

could it be
I’ve turned into the fly
[and the fly into me]
this inexplicable
desire to launch myself
and ricochet
from wall to ceiling
and back to floor
a compelling notion
—an inherent motion

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

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