In the Fence

fiction, Personal Reflection 1 Minute 
Between here and there
an escape
just large enough
for those chickens
who stand so whitely
alongside that glazed wheelbarrow.

(Yes, William Carlos Williams
fills my emptiness some days).

On one side, marigolds
which they love to eat 
and on the other, their coop

and then there’s me.
The portal.

I wish one would cry: “Transport!”
as she bobbed through. 
Oh yes, I'd love to be a tunnel,
like in The Duchess of Malfi
for I crave romance.

But no.

A hole left by a rotten paling
is oft ignored,
sometimes "repaired"
(aka removed),
definitely never celebrated

in literature’s fenceless wilderness.

Written for Miz Quickly Day 9 (“As seen by Quickly”)

Published by abigfatcanofworms

We all walk in the dark. But if we hold hands, perhaps the dark won't be as scary.

Published

9 thoughts on “In the Fence”

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