you forgot to tell me
where you had gone
so I wandered into the night
dreaming I would find you
somewhere safe
the night never ended
neither did the dream
of finding you
beyond the treetops
as an infinite light
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
There’s something about this coffee,
I said, speaking to the cat,
knowing she knew exactly what I meant
because she too drinks the same water
from this dated kitchen.
There’s nothing right about this place,
it seems to have lost
the intimacy it once had.
Instead of doing anything about it
I’m just going to drink
this lousy cup of coffee
and wonder where the angels went.
july two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
The morning arrived
as it always does
a soft rain falling out back
giving the apples
a special gloss
once the shower
segued to sunshine.
By early afternoon
children would arrive
to climb and pick the fruit
and patiently wait
as the owner of the tree
transformed them
into a cobbler.
With bellies full
the little ones ran off
the scent of the kitchen
following them
reminding the baker
her own precious ones
were late for supper.
may two thousand twelve
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I stayed in the house for four straight days
in mid December, discovered the world
did not miss me one iota, nor me the world.
To pass the time I would look out the window
each time finding something new: a bird, a child,
the wind. I would capture the images
in my mind, later jot them down.
When the telephone rang I did not answer
and one time when someone knocked
I cowered behind the comfy chair
until certain no one was there.
By the end of the fourth day
before I fell asleep, I created a list
of the things I would need
to spend the remaining days until Christmas.
december, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
walking in i felt a presence
had just left
leaving behind a draft
coming from the return vent
a lone light shone
above the kitchen sink
highlighting the drip
that hadn’t been fixed for days
i thought i might find
a note on the counter
next to sunday’s newspaper
instead found a grocery list
along with a few coupons
the cat sauntered on the tile
and rubbed up against my ankle
sounding off in a bluesy way
somehow knowing
change was here to stay
december, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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