an early evening
aircraft flying overhead
one after the other
—even the cat taking notice
letting out
a long sigh of relief
safe behind the sectional
may two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the cat is creeping in the house
though I’ve no idea where he is
I’ve sequestered myself
in a room w/three glass walls
fully draped in snow-white blinds
—the fourth wall painted charcoal
the only door a two-way mirror
fog has somehow entered this place
seeping in through cracks & crevices
concealing the cat suspected
of sauntering by
I turn on the ceiling fans remotely
the fog quickly & soundlessly dissipating
the cat’s distressing meowing
a reminder of the ambulance’s siren
still ringing in my ear
december two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
you just sit there
trying to put your finger on it
the impossible
suddenly a possibility
—and you sit there
willing this something into existence
something you can’t quite
put your finger on
small spaces
become gaping holes
[you’ve visited time & again]
just like in the movies
or a thriller novella
and so you just sit there
acting out your parts in real time
as if nothing
had ever changed
every solitary detail fully intact
right down to the dog tags
on the siamese cats
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
dead bird at the front doorstep
—a juvenile house wren
the cat’s at the back door
clawing at the weather stripping
as if it’s a sheet of rock
there’s a mess to be cleaned
[well below my feet]
either in the laundry room
or the opium den
door shuts
& I tell myself
the bird is probably just stunned
in the living room
my dead mother is reading a thriller
the rocking chair slightly
rocking
to give her more light
I throw open the curtains
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I’ll pick out the runt
you can always tell which one
—you just pick ‘em up by the neck
I’ll make him tough I will
kick him around a bit
make him stay out all night long
just like me
it’s not like I’ve never
had one before
haven’t kicked one out of the house
haven’t given ‘em a few bucks
and told ‘em to get lost
but this one—
there’s something different
about this one
and so you let him stay
for a little while
as long as he doesn’t cost you much
october two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I saw her outside
my office window on a
warm september afternoon
dressed in short jean shorts
& a blue tank top
pacing back & forth on the sidewalk
smartphone covering her right ear
her left hand holding
a retractable leash
the end of which secured
a relatively small black pussycat
attempting to go against
the grain
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I probably won’t be around
to see how it all ends
but then again maybe I’m just a cat
enjoying an earlier life
it’s true I don’t recall
where or when I was born
instead I must rely on others
who claim to know such information
concerning the before & after
what I witness by day isn’t enough
instead I rely on technicolor dreams
forcing me to jump to my feet
I’d like to be a mouse or a mole
working from the inside
gathering intel by way of a frequency
only I can understand
somehow I’ve got this feeling
next time I’ll wake up
on the other side of the world
probably someplace like kathmandu
september two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
refreshing memories
of what’s been told before
this is not just a game
though we are always playing
sometimes serious
sometimes sincere
far in & far out
like some feline cosmonaut
I hear some suggesting
it’s not their first rodeo
but they look nothing like
any cat I’ve ever seen
further surprising me
by being able to speak
confirming my suspicions
about outer space
august two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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
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
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
I am the last of a dying breed
how many times have you heard such a thing
my irish-backed whiteness
and lack of an accent [due to my
american upbringing]
couldn’t make me any more
plain-janier
inkless & pierceless & without
nary a conviction
I look & sound exactly as expected
—predictably beaten
I say do not interview me
I’ve nothing interesting to add to the
conversation
I like to talk about all the times
I’ve almost died
but nobody wants to hear those
cat stories anymore
if only they had changed over the years
embellished & unbelievably heroic
perhaps they could have
transitioned into lives of their own
instead I’m the interviewer
& the interviewee
a super long list of imperious questions
going unanswered
hour after hour after hour
january two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jesse james was a virgo
a creative in his own right
inputting & processing
like nobody’s business
until shot from behind
they say at the end
he had a black cat named
mercury
(it’s a virgo thing)
but that little nugget
never made it
to the mainstream media
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the page is off white
blank & unlined
like an expressionless face
eyes shut & chin slightly lifted
mind void of meaningful thought
tiger behind iron gate
wants to come out & play
unknowing she is but a kitten
sublimely aware this life
will not be the last
charcoal in hand
ideas spring forth
from a second story window
a greenish moon burning bright
like the intensity of eyes
spellbound & unforgiving
november two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s late in the game
but I’m not taking myself out
look I say
that cat is almost nine years old
and he ain’t going anywhere
[except kitty heaven]
—but I have to admit
it’s high time for a screwgie
or a mickey or a riddle
a secret talisman perhaps
almost certain to buckle your knees
as if brushed by death himself
october two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the neighborhood
was littered with feral cats
black & white
blue & yellow & green
and every other shade
in between
the majority of them
food stamp carriers
all the others hiding
in the shadows
keeping the rodent population
under control
all the while steering clear
of the recently formed
fleet of drones
locally & affectionately known
as the catnappers
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 