poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “alone”

happy hour

I felt like stepping out
but didn’t want to drink alone
so I texted Tommy to give me a call
but my phone lay silent

goddamn son-of-a-bitch

I powered up my new HDTV
but nothing was on
so I turned it off
and checked my phone again

nada – nothing – zip

I paged through my contacts
and speed dialed Randy
then Billy and then Reggie G
but nobody picked up

I walked into the kitchen
and opened the refrigerator
but I had forgotten to replace
the lamp and couldn’t see shit
but I reached in anyway

june two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Cries in the Dark

Now that the house is empty
I easily awaken from cries
in the dark, sneaking in
through the bedroom window
on a cool, autumn morning.

I roll out of bed at four a.m.
and rush to the window
like a child on Christmas Eve;
eyes focused on the house
across the street, a lone light
leaking through the drawn shade.

Once the child has grown quiet
from his mother’s magical touch,
I crawl back to bed, wondering
where my own children might be
and if they ever think of me
when hearing cries in the dark.

july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Christmas for One

I stayed in the house for four straight days
in mid December, discovered the world
did not miss me one iota, nor me the world.

To pass the time I would look out the window
each time finding something new: a bird, a child,
the wind. I would capture the images
in my mind, later jot them down.

When the telephone rang I did not answer
and one time when someone knocked
I cowered behind the comfy chair
until certain no one was there.

By the end of the fourth day
before I fell asleep, I created a list
of the things I would need
to spend the remaining days until Christmas.

december, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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