in search of a place to hide
the man in the street
consumed by moral injury
has come to memorize
the many moods
of a complicated moon
the night air freezes over
making nature’s carpets crunchy
—naked trees giving little comfort
as the heart rate slows
to an all-time low
handouts are hard to find
especially when freedoms
continue to sail away
like helium balloons
let loose on new year’s eve
december two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
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