cast to the shadow’s edge
alive but unseen
my voice silenced
by an enemy within
I once walked hand in hand
with golden familiarity
loved ones always nearby
in person or metaphysically
my old world kidnapped
and held for ransom
stars within the shadow’s edge
imaginary & unblinking
march two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I never considered myself a fixer
instead believed sheer
determination might bring
harmony & happiness
I remember that one year
when positive energy abounded
like a field of wildflowers
but those months passed by
like some homemade flipbook
and I soon found myself back inside
that little box of empty
without question happiness
always slays sadness
though the trick may have less
to do with fixing anything
and more with imagining
outside the box
march two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She found me out back
sitting on the stoop
weeping
What’s wrong?
I composed myself
and looking down at the concrete
I shook my head saying
I don’t know
no sé no sé
How long have you been back here?
I wanted to say I’ve been back
here for years
laughing & crying on occasion
but for some reason
nobody ever caught me
Having not answered I heard her
change her stance by crossing
one foot behind the other
Very well—supper is ready if you’re hungry
march two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Mother Mary
why have you slipped
past the shadows
your once comforting voice
now a deafening silence
my calls for your
undivided attention
go unheeded
Now I find myself
wandering the fringes
of my own imagination
where iniquity
is free to roam
and the innocence
of my creation
drowns in isolation
february two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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
What do you call your apparent
isolation —like a hummingbird having
the feeder all to herself
until eternity
or like a soldier dislocated
lost in the jungle
desperately needing
company
even after being found & rescued
now so desperately alone
in the bustling makeshift hospital
at the ballgame
your mind wanders onto the field
your body remaining
in the bleachers
where you believe nobody sees you
when home alone
you pray for the rain to come down
relentlessly
like nails pounding into concrete
drowning out the very idea
someone is attempting to make contact
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Papa is dying
the ambulance people cried
having arrived & departed
steeple shrinking in the rear view
church bells ringing
They say he suffered
from a broken heart disease
but those who knew him well
said this could never be
Papa isn’t dying
the hospital people cried
having discharged him
to the mercy & kindness
to whomever he could find
They say he suffered
from a lonely heart disease
and those who knew him well
said this could probably be
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I flip over the egg timer on the kitchen
counter and step away
before it runs out of sand
the place across the street loses its roof
most of the neighbors here
are victims of the enemy of the state
and there aren’t many of us left
I’ve been meaning to get the hell
out of dodge for a long time now
what keeps me here is anyone’s best guess
maybe I’m holding out for a miracle
all the while practicing the art of
turning the other cheek
september two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
so the furnace runs all day long
oh my it must be winter again
earlier I found a gummy in a tupperware
pill box right there on the top shelf
of the refrigerator —and so I popped it
into my mouth unsure what it was
or how it had gotten there
the house is empty like an abandoned
bird’s nest —that is except for Walter & me
at one point I had forgotten he’d been out
so gave him some treats two hours later
after letting him back in to a chorus of boos
upstairs three of the four bedrooms
are stone cold —I lock myself inside
one of them for a couple of hours
just to teach myself a lesson
january 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
I remember as a child
probably four-years old
walking about the property
making up song lyrics ad lib
singing them out loud as the
words popped into my head
from what I remember
they were ballads
words of sorrow & grief
verses hard for me to fathom
following a melody I must
have picked up from a prior life
I imagine the neighbors
who happened to walk by
must have found me strange
—and though I had known
they were there all along
I pretended like I didn’t
december two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
sequestered from the noise
I’ve burrowed myself
deep underground
proceeded to build a home
among the rock & critters & roots
day by day the place
becomes more elaborate
having managed to harness
the break of dawn
& manipulate the waxing moon
on the walls I recorded
the art of isolation
a fairly accurate account
of my life & times
before & after the destruction
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I am restless
inside my makeshift cage
sticking my head out
between the barbed wires
maybe nicking my neck
a time or two
but always smiling
I don’t bleed like I used to
the clotting
taking its sweet-ass time
a reminder I should lighten up
on the baby aspirin
it’s hard to be seen
when there’s a sheet
hanging over my head
—no I am not a ghost
at least not that I know of
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
delivery trucks
those ubiquitous messengers on wheels
also known as santa claus
or carrier pigeon
or marathon man
come & go but mostly go
to anyplace but your own
and there you are
in your self-imposed exile
seeking wisdom but gaining frustration
with every step van
or box truck
or pizza delivery driver
passing you by
december two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it was the dead of winter
and those flowers we once shared
bloomed in the back of my mind
I’ve kept anything but busy
self-isolated in my mystery cottage
placed perfectly atop cedar hill
unable to set foot outside
for fear of freezing to death
days turned into nights
nights well lit by candlelight
open books scattered throughout
sonnets recited by dead poets
their voices reverberating
as shadows against the walls
early morning birdsong
slipped past single-pane windows
like a long lost lullaby
putting out the very last flame
and folding fast my tired eyes
december two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 