poetry by j matthew waters


my father doesn’t understand
the english language anymore
so I learned a little french
some spanish & portuguese
but that didn’t do the trick

I told him I didn’t want him to die
though deep down inside
I knew it was a pretty white lie

I told him how much I hated him
when I was an adolescent & a teen
but he could no longer hear me
through the cellular lines

my brother once told me
god & him were like this
which is why we continued
playing the back nine
each of us carrying
a bag of lightning rods

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

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