poetry by j matthew waters


      —dedicated to my paternal grandmother who I never met

None of this makes sense
we are all machines
with parts that wear out

Although on a higher level
there is more to the mechanisms
than meets the eye

Art will not save the planet
but it may [theoretically]
outlive it
circulating in means

If Emily could hear you now
she would be a perfect
lady in waiting
no longer sickly
nor not wanting you around
but rather willing & able
to start all over again

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

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