poetry by j matthew waters

building a world by memory

I have crossed the threshold
of the shadow
no longer afraid
of being alone
a stranger is my own house
waking me
by way of a touch
every morning at three fifteen

the walls & ceiling are dark
as I lay there
blinking my eyes quickly
my once uninterrupted dream
continuing in various shades
of black & white
until finally dissolving
by way of a volitional light

outside of the dream
all doors & windows are locked
from the inside
I wander from room to room
occasionally settling
at the bay window facing south
watching the river running
faster than usual

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

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