I laid down between our fences in the yard;
Your guarding wooden posts and my chain links of love.
I never understood why we could not share this wall,
but I laid in the tension and swallowed hard.
Two feet across and the length of our house;
I watched all our stars get covered by clouds.
Sometimes I notice you naked on the wet lawn,
moving your body effortlessly,
like dust settling on salt.
I wish you could see the devotions I have carved,
but they can only be read on my side of your wall.
Last Spring, I began to dismantle my cage.
I cut myself several times,
but my wounds are well on their way.
I hope that one day,
you will help me to break
your white-wash barrier down;
and maybe we will plant a hedge
and grow blackberries to sell
at our family farm stand?
Okay, that is silly. I admit that.
But still, it makes no sense that we share a house—
but divide our yard with a fence.