unfencing
July 29, 2016 § Leave a comment
I stopped to talk to James
leaning
on the last rail of
fence
((once a boundary for kids
who wave
now from worlds edge
he went on about
a place no longer
being a home
as much as a spot
hollowed out to wait
while
wheezing ones way to a conclusion
it is
he said
just a place to fold
a faded map of nowhere
and to un-dogear pages
that will never be returned to
I picked a slat from the pile
contemplated
the weight of it
wondering about his expression
which was not unlike
that of a fish
mouthing
something
I could not hear
(c) 2016 Fred Whitehead
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