Two Rams
Two rams,
separated
by a real
wired threshold.
Two rams
wishing
they could
break through
and each beat the other
down.
But these rams
don’t live
in some
liminal space,
tenured and
impermeable.
They crash their heads
into each other
through the wire
over and over,
cranial bone on cranial bone
until they tire.
I daresay
I hope
the wire
holds,
but
I
harbor
a secret
wish.
Not rhetorical,
not academic,
not reasonable.
Permalink //
This fence was never meant
to hold,
never meant
to be more than
border lines in the blue arid sky,
sketched taut with flexible wire,
and each time, we close our eyes,
we ram our heads into the world,
the sky seems only to be closer
than the ground, while all sense of the solid
slowly disappears.
– a poetic response, of sorts
Permalink //
The fence holds
for now
although
the baleful look
on my face
can only mean
I am
backing up
for another
run at it.