poetry by j matthew waters

flowers to be

mistakes are made after some sort of action
is performed
—such as a bank teller debiting
your account instead of crediting it

without any action there is no mistake
there is only negligence
a sort of indifference to those who may
be affected

what invariably may take place
after such lack of caring
is of no consequence
it’s like deer at midnight
snatching away your incipient flowers
—there’s nothing you can do about it

january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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