it’s supposed to snow
the old man went on to say
yes I know I replied
looking out the sliding glass door
at the frosty grass sparkling
from the midday sun
there was a light dusting
from the night before
but apparently
that doesn’t count
it’s a nice day
he went on to say
but too cold to my liking
a subtle reminder
why I should be somewhere
much much warmer
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
she would be in the kitchen
with her heavy sighs
perhaps building a sandwich
—something would fall to the floor
and her heavy sighs
somehow returned it to the counter
where she was then able
to complete her self-assigned task
with another heavy sigh or two
in the other room
he would be seated in his recliner
without an appetite
eyes inside a book or locked
onto the television screen
—having no means in which to hear
her heavy sighs
or what they could possibly mean
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there was a stampede
of people
a phenomenal thing
arms & legs & other body parts
broken like pretzels
inside a wooden bowl
we were sitting in a tavern
at happy hour
witnessing the aftermath
on closed caption
the bartender flashing a finger
as if it never happened
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
watching the evening news
is an old habit I’ve yet to break
I get what’s going on
no thanks to the world wide web
a constant feed linking me
to all corners of the world
as if I actually live & breathe
the air I’ve come to witness
I understand the moon
is not the same
above war-torn populations
shedding pieces of itself
like fireflies from heaven
hoping to be captured
by boys & girls
with & without homes
december two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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