They keep blurring the lines
between what's yours and what's mine
to keep us distracted from their taking,
iron-clad divides,
fence posts painted black and white,
and chain link made of red or blue.
Neighbors nod from six feet apart,
eyes wary over lattice laced lies.
signs posted "NO TRESPASSING"
but the unmasked rich climb over just fine.
They whisper that safety means silence,
giving us pickets to keep us soundly in.
But even white fences rot
when the soil below is poisoned.
Pocket the rusty nails,
pressing splinters into my palm,
and ask:
what’s worth keeping in...
and what’s been fenced out
far too long?
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
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