Thursday, July 15, 2010

Picket Fences

“Easy” she says, drowning out the displeasure
Drowning in how it goes
Which is never her way, because of mine
And it's easier to say "ok" and dam up the waves
Into a lake of stale water and sediment
To hold back the crest
And keep the white caps from crashing
Beating the shore free from the grasp of dirt and mud
Free to be a grain of sand in an ocean of fish
To be a pearl
Licked smooth by time
Not compressed coal and diamonds
Hard light cut clean
But ready washed by currents welcomed
Dreaming of surf and sun
Far from this Iowa heartland
With its brittle winds and sopping heat
To be broken free from the overgrowth
And cracked brick
From the holes we fill
With furniture and rebuilt memories
White picket fences are now made of plastic
Not wood, that rots and peels
Twists and bends before your eyes
So you know what is coming
White picket fences are made of plastic
That ages from the inside and snaps
Leaving jagged lines that are hard to cross
To understand
To fix
“Easy” she says
“We’re not even close to being done”

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