time slips into a pool
of a nondescript stream
eddying unperceptively
to the untrained eye
how far below the surface
could the curious pool possibly go
there is one way to find out
and that way may be the only way
to never be seen again
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
inspired by her absence
I keep the drawing room
well lit by candlelight
perusing the pages backwards
occasionally pausing
when finding something clever
or humorous or jaded
having left nary a note
nor encrypted message
I can only imagine
what destination awaits her
—lately having developed
a quasi-fixation
with anything martian
january two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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