playing jacks
on the floor in the foyer
the three of us playing jacks
sitting cross-legged
going thru the motions procedurally
—the front door wide open
a breeze coming in through the screen
why do you look at me like that
she demands
we saw what you did so just move on
as the youngest I appreciated
the accolades
and so moving on is what I did
knowing her contempt
and the silence of the other one
only confirming my contention
I’ve arrived here
from another world
october two thousand twenty-four
copyright j matthew waters
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