Fences (three poems)

I

Like early motion pictures,
slits of light through slats of fencing—
passing bicycle seen as if through glass.

 

II

Persistent memories
press through planks,
and let one’s life appear intact.

 

III

Always in disrepair, this fence,
warped or in need of hammer
and nail.
Tree branches grow through
splits and cracks—
living woods mingle with
once-living boards.

 


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Drafted in response to a prompt described here, seeking a “common thread”  running through three separate pieces. 
 

 

 

 

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