undeliverable packages
we’re not expecting any fireworks
this year are we
she yells from the other room
(I think she’s talking to someone
on the goddamn phone again)
why in the hell are you asking about
fireworks I yell back
it’s only january for fuck’s sake
but it’s too late
the package has been delivered
and the driver has gotten away
it’s strange how silence
can be so deafening
it’s difficult to fall into a deep sleep
eyes routinely blinking
like an old film projector
telling silent stories
eventually the movie ends
usually in a whimper
and I slowly reach consciousness
only to discover the time of day
it’s four a.m. and
somewhere I hear a mother crying
january two thousand seventeen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
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