such a lonely day
it’s not like I’ve been isolated before
self-medicated & anxious
peering through the slightest peephole
finding a world reluctantly retrograding
all the while reassuring myself
this is not the loneliest day of my life
a knock on the door but nobody’s there
all the king’s men having retreated
either by foot or on horseback
carrying with them expired identities
and ill-gotten warrants
any day now perhaps it will be tomorrow
all locked doors will be safe to open
and the fever & the fear & the hatred
will have become a thing of the past
july two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
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