tomorrow I’ll be gone
before I begin let me
go back up to the very beginning
where weapons of war
were as rudimentary
as the very act of rape
how can you write about hunger
without ever going hungry
how can you write about death
without first dying
there is no poetic justice
in these once-upon-streets
forever bustling with a sensation
you can no longer describe
march two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
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