the wandering marionette
expectations continue to dwindle exponentially
and then the sun rises again
what are we doing except exhuming bodies
as if they were black birds
murdered en masse only 10 days ago
people are coming & going
on conveyor belts
some of them alive & some still dying
the workers & the robots
having no idea
where they’re coming from
the shifts are ‘round the clock
nobody is disgruntled because they’re taught
[in their developmental stage]
there is nothing to be disgruntled about
and so while they go about their routines
occasionally someone will ask
why hasn’t time converted to the metric system
everything is constructed & destroyed here
except for the living & the dying
the baby girl in the trash bin
the nomad in the desert
a businessman on a twenty-story ledge
overcome by the promise of eternity
—everything just as it should be
like the wandering marionette
disoriented & obsolete
with nary a stage to perform upon
september two thousand twenty-two
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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