I thought it was monday
but it was sunday again
as if six days went missing
blown away by nuclear winds
the world news at nine
didn’t tell me anything
I didn’t already know
living on a wing & a prayer
in this post-apocalyptic world
the great migration
has only just begun
how many sundays may pass
before I must move on
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
how many of them are us
born without a homeland
left to find your own identity
displacement is not new
go ask any dinosaur
having survived the initial blast
news of a madman’s war
infiltrates the airwaves
something old is new again
the house down the street
caught fire overnight
will probably take a year to repair
I look out the bay window
counting my blessings
adding peanut butter to the list
february two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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