Sunday, June 12, 2016

Fence

I eye this fence at night:
darkness billows, runs past it.

I think of wearing a word
and crossing over the fence -

quitting for an hourglass' worth of time
the world of pretense.

Blue, the banks; red, the brook -
beyond the fence I only look -

look at the barrenness that may
bloom me and itself

once I cross the fence
for a tiny hourglass' measure of time?

I seed wait into the window pane -
nothing blooms.

Darkness wags a tail,
unwelcome, yet so inside

my side of the fence.

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