I bought the gold plated Colibri
in the Old Capitol Mall
in Iowa City when I was junior
back in eighty-three
It set me back a couple
of week’s wages
—notwithstanding inflation
Now over forty years later
the little gem is missing
& I’ve got my usual suspects—
they know who they are
april two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She was in charge
until she wasn’t
the tiny tea set purchased
once upon a time
remains on the little table
looking out
at the flower garden
now a frozen display
only the cut-back rose bushes
barely breathing
tiny birds
taking dry baths
inside the ornamental bowl
purchased long ago
on a warm summer day
loading it
all by herself
into the trunk of the car
when nobody was looking
january two thousand twenty-five
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
lady of the mirror
calls you to retreat into reflection
back to the city center
where you once wandered the streets at night
or deep into the forest
where sights & sounds remind you
of a life before this one
she tells you what you crave
is a nonjudgmental environment
one in which your own
reflection
reminds you of the stars that shine
revealing all the many things
you are certain to find
december two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
a morning with promise
sunday before
sunrise
a child awakens
one of eight
sneaking downward
spiraling like a mouse between
the woodwork
advancing to the far corner of the ship
—the only television set
sits cold on the credenza
on the screen
johnny quest
bullwinkle & rocky
dudley do-right
go go gophers
who remembers them all
but something
more sinister awaits
in the next room
a flash of light
shadows moving slowly
soft metallic sounds
suddenly frozen
the child
pauses everything
playing out his own doom
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
my father climbs the maple tree
behind his mother’s house
climbing to the very top
he believes he is a boy again
from a higher perspective
he sees a horse with wings
grazing in a meadow outside of town
he calls for his mother to see
but his mother doesn’t hear him
she is in the kitchen baking pies
& preserving fruit for the winter
my father falls from the tree
landing on his feet like a cat
he saunters off in search of the horse
with wings grazing in a meadow
my father walks out of town carrying
a bunch of carrots
back home his mother is ringing the dinner bell
mounting onto the back of the horse
my father cannot hear the kitchen bell
before long he is climbing higher in the sky
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
it’s never too late to change
if that’s what’s needed
to keep the peace
the doctor recommended
lightening up on the bud heavy
so I bought a bottle of scotch whiskey
placing it by the beside since that’s
where I start & end the day
I stopped weighing myself
after starting a diet based on
foreign proteins
broken promises
domesticated pastas
and starched pink shirts
believing what one doesn’t know
won’t kill me
with each passing hour my hair
& beard grow longer
my bell bottom jeans dragging on the floor
fraying beautifully & reminding me
how going backward
is just as easy as going forward
november two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I would like to be
who I once was when
the world was less complicated
but I know the world
has always been complicated
and I just didn’t know it
at the time
so I say
I would like to be who I once was
when I didn’t know
the world was complicated
—and death was just something
that happened to other people
whether they be good
people or bad
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
the wind carried us
to that enchanting place
we thought we were riding
on a magic carpet
but it was just an
ordinary automobile
one with fins or wings
and a wide open mouth
eating everything
until skidding to a halt
dropping us off
into another world
one with flippers &
joysticks & bells & whistles
clinks & clanks
sirens & dings & laughter
september two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
in a shoebox on the upper shelf
of a walk-in closet
anything could be inside
baseball cards
currency & coin
matchbox cars
origami animals
a porcelain doll
lost to the imagination
they are like forgotten soldiers
whose only desire was world peace
to reach the unreachable
requires hooks
& ladders
and an unquestionable desire
to rewind the clock
releasing the contents in wild abandon
september two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
I never thought
we were supposed to go
backwards
but eventually the time comes
a point in time
that really has no definition
where you realize
regression is greater
than reality
so what can you do
except face the music
begin to dance again
taking you back to a point in time
where we lived
for the moment
just like we do today
only back then it was beautiful
and romantic
and the world as we knew it
was a happier place
august two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
She wore a pretty summer dress
throwing me back some forty years
reading a short story by Shaw
Of course she’s not a girl anymore
but in my mind I guess she still is
just like I’m a boy in the eyes
of those who made me
It was the fourth of July
and I don’t remember the last time
I saw her as an innocent child
hand in hand with a little boy
& girl on either side
hurrying to find a place
to watch the parade
She probably didn’t know that I spotted her
and I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t
july two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
bird in my ear
newly purchased
at the five & dime
whispers things
I like to hear
before the storm
there is much chatter
[from the bird in my ear]
until that is
this thing called the lull
casually rolls in
it seems in no time
the bird in my ear
vanished before my eyes
taking with it memories
once instilled
june two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there is a certain silence
beneath the noise
buzzing inside my brain
to get there is a long
complicated journey
something like one step forward
and two steps back
eventually you’ll be young
once again
where silence doesn’t exist
and the noise
was something you sought
from the time you rose from the dead
it is never definable
and if it ever was
you would never be able
to give it any kind of justice
april two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
he had to go back home
back to chicago
I think he was taking the bus
maybe he hitchhiked
or maybe he had a ride
his name was Mike
he was one of the good guys
some things you just don’t forget
we lived in a hell hole
along with six or eight other guys
who did nothing but trash the place
on the morning of your departure
you passed on some tools to me
most still with me to this day
december two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
there were six of us
maybe seven
seated in the dining room
my grandmother (born in belgium
& someone I’ve never met)
occupying the head
it was a hearty meal
a meat & potatoes kind of deal
homemade bread
fresh fruit & veggies
a little dog
sitting on someone’s lap
not sure my exact age
but I was sporting a red cap
w/a minimal bill
and I remember her telling me
(in her broken english)
it has no place at her table
november two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
Nobody knows how it ends
which is probably the beauty
(or ugliness) of it all
When Cash covered Reznor
it reached a broader audience
doubling down on the reminder
none of us are here to stay
After the tulips & daffodils
& bleeding hearts die off
other colors are eager to replace them
& like clockwork
that’s exactly what transpires
I was looking out the bay window
one super windy morning
I spotted you across the street
(as plain as day)
walking your dog & looking my way
— I waved back nonchalantly
as if it were yesterday
may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
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