poetry by j matthew waters

moving target

coming to terms with oneself
now that’s a good one
a joke perhaps
the very concept flawed
to the nines
—shouting out loud
there’s everything to see here

in retrospection
the self is more than many
like an array of mirrors
[an indefinable number of them]
variations of yourself
in every single one

once you get to know them
now that’s another doozy
can you imagine
even knowing yourself
the latest in search of
a pacific island
that may or may not exist

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

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