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poetry by j matthew waters

[inside] my wooden heart


my wooden heart
what color shall I paint it today
do I feel blue or green or tangerine
anything but blood red
I should think

perhaps today I’ll pull the nails
from my wooden heart
saw the slats & repurpose them
into a bench or table
or a simple decoration
to hang on the wall

perhaps it’s an apple
inside someone’s eye
or a starfish elevating
above the dirty blonde sand
—this very day
casting its faint light
inside my wooden heart





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

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