Bio Note: I am a poet and songwriter living in Oakland, California with my wife and son. I got an M.A. in creative writing from San Francisco State in 1995, and did absolutely nothing with it until poetry began to leak out of my pores in 2015. Since then my various leakages have been published in Main Street Rag, The Blue Nib, and many other journals, and I published my first chapbook, Arks, with Selcouth Station Press in May 2021.
The house is quiet. Lightning crackles inside the dome of this skull, a trillion branches of memory and judgment, highways travelled and exited, faces rising like fog from the fields, words that slipped from the bog of my mouth, sticky with consequences, mornings drooped like a dead lily over a bowl of cereal, regrets and fears shaken over yesterday’s wounds, the self I never showed to anyone, not even to myself.
This poem was supposed to hang its jacket on a National poetry month prompt but a sweet 2/4 jazz number swung out of the car radio honeycomb sax tin can keyboards sizzling drums my foot started tapping on the mat knees knocking against the steering wheel grin wriggling across my stupid face and I lost my grip on the poem spun it somewhere into the bushes outside my parked car I hope you will forgive me.
©2021 Scott Waters
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