jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the category “Animals”

facing the edge


I pull to the side of the road
mainly out of curiosity

how am I to move
the injured marmot
to the side of the road

I don’t get out of the car
instead I look up at the sky
its eyes burning like death

I look away
as if losing a staring contest
with the sun

a vehicle drives by
and then another and another
a whole host of them
like well-equipped refugees

I take my cue from the marmot
[which has seemed to move on]
and proceed
against the grain





may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

coming & going as they please


something touched my shoulder
perhaps I had been dozing off
in & out of a dream

my eyes flickered
but it was too dark to see
instead heard metallic wind chimes
as if they had just been rewound

whoever was responsible
[for the touching and/or rewinding]
did not show themselves
in fact I started to believe they had minimized themselves
having fled into the woods behind the garden

it was cold out but plenty bright
and when I opened the blinds
the light was blinding
and for a brief moment I thought I saw them

I should have known not to open the blinds
at least not without an approving birdcall
something that had been missing
since before my self-induced slumber

I’m stuck
where I’ve been stuck
for what seems like a fortnight now
this rectangular room seemingly self-sustaining
three sides made of glass
the other w/a singular door

slightly ajar
floral & fauna
completely silent
looking in from the outside





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

movie night


I could hear them in the kitchen
three little mice having just learned
how to make popcorn

I was rocking in the parlor
cleaning my gun & sharpening
my whittling knife
catching bits & pieces of their
unintelligible conversation

when the timer went off
I set down my block of wood
and proceeded to the kitchen
the smell of butter & salt & spilt beer
dominating my senses

cracking the basement door
all I heard were the opening credits
to walt disney’s cinderella





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

the orphan parade


we knew the woods as well
as any wild animal
and they knew us
just the same

we tended to keep
to the minor trails
rifle & canteen strapped
on either shoulder

we were not at war
but a silent opposition
seemed to be surveilling
our movements

over time we learned
to scramble our signals
traversing in groups of three
or two or one

intercepted messages
labeled us as
the orphan parade
guardians of the trees

day by day we evolved
our mission never changing
constant orders from above
by way of telepathy





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

Taming of the Lion


April is nearly over
& I’m mowing the lawn
in lightly falling sleet
that stops & starts
like a cat not knowing
if she wants in or out

The underbelly
of the cutting machine
cannot efficiently or
effectively mulch the wet
& overgrown grass
causing it to cease
every few swaths

My neighbors must think
I’m some sort of idiot
giving the mower
a good talking to
while on my knees
clearing the clumps
with my gloved hands
hopefully pulling the cord
for the very last time





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

the rabbit & the fox


one thousand miles behind the sun
darkness closes in
ultraviolet rays
fading in the rearview
a temporary illusion
like the fox giving chase
aided by once elusive tailwinds

though the light is faint
love is in constant motion
one thousand miles behind the sun

the rabbit is not afraid of the fox
its purpose ever changing
the pursuer off in a new direction
one thousand miles behind the sun





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

caught in the rain


in the back of my mind
it is pouring down rain
awakening me from my slumber
early sunday morning

I imagine the cat is clawing
at the front door
her spatial memory convinced
this is how it magically opens

in the back of my mind
there is thunder & lightning
electrifying my hippocampus
and bringing me to my feet

the cat is at the front door
incapable of comprehending
the shiny button next to the handle
is the key to the next life





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

chicken & egg


foot tapping
one two three four five
meditating
for good measure
incubating ideas
germinated long ago

the big cheese
stolen in broad daylight
a pack of blind mice
drawing straws
contemplating
mass murdering

the hash pipe
always out of sight
in a shoe
an ashtray
the junkiest of drawers
in the kitchen

getting closer
warmer then colder
back & forth
tile or carpet or wood
the hatching
a surprise ending





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

as birds lay dreaming


it’s three in the morning
having awakened after maybe
three hours rest

walking slowly down the steps
the blue moon filters
into the house from various angles

I command the corner lamp
to power on to level one
wondering what my dear mother would do

I imagine she went for the cabinet
squatting like a catcher
calling her next pitch

the shelf above the refrigerator
is where the spirits live
I blame them for awakening me

settling in on the bay window chair
I reminisce of the thousands of dreams
of flying & talking & singing like a bird

having faced countless perils
perhaps I’d not survived an horrific dive
or was shot out of the clear blue sky

how many times can you possibly die
in a bed of make-believe roses
how many species of birds can you be





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

the safe house


it was a case
of mistaken identity
they claimed
having kicked in the door
and taking away
the fat cat

I remember crying
afterwards
for two or three days
afraid next time
it would be me
they were coming for





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

the fox & the cowboy


the fox admitted
he wanted to be a cowboy
complete with boots
denim jeans & chaps
embroidered shirt
& stetson hat

when asked
why he had a fascination
with cowboys
the fox alluded to
an intense desire
to live the romantic life





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

euthanasia


aiming his colt forty-five
directly down her neck
[perpendicular to the front of the skull]
the cowboy shot his horse dead
the muscles throughout his body
contracting just like hers
lasting less than 30 seconds
—as if choreographed
the two of them collapsed to the dirt
she as silent as the night
he sobbing uncontrollably
nothing but a shadow of his former self





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

the neighbor one house down & across the street


we don’t know what happened
to the son & daughter-in-law
[or their child]
they could be anywhere by now

we’re not sure
about the girlfriend either
for all we know she could be dead

we’ve contacted animal control
numerous times
but it’s become one of those things
—short-term improvements
but a receding memory

somehow the cats in the neighborhood
managed to restore order
[all on their own]
the whereabouts of the main character
suddenly in question





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

play dinosaur


a child is unwrapping
her birthday gift
in the center
of a makeshift stadium
the audience of strangers
in the tens of thousands
cheering her on
throwing visual objects
on the neatly cut grass
surrounding her
music blaring as shes roars
raising the stuffed T-Rex
high above her head





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

painted elephant


throw paint at the wall
to get a clearer picture
of what’s in the room
—having dried overnight
return & peel back the colors

the painted elephant
is like a shameless chameleon
a reminder you might not
arrive at any conclusions
the first time around





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

convergence at the river


did you see that spark
in the sky
spooking thousands of blackbirds
and sending them
to the stars

the earth shook
from the footfalls of five hundred
elephants
rushing away from the scene
of the crime
in absolute terror

the nuclear winter
was unmistakably inevitable
all the armies of the world
laying down their arms
praying the world
as we know it
will recover from its losses





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

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