poetry by j matthew waters

twenty-one hundred

the water is pretty toxic here
but the children
seem to have adapted

the ones with years of knowledge
are not faring so well
their numbers dwindling
by the day

the crops should be better
next year
thanks to all the dying

without question
the mountains are shrinking
the price of gold
going higher & higher

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

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