when we met
your fences stood tall,
proud and mighty
of a wood that near gleamed

at a week
i saw a splinter
maybe two
and perhaps some of the sheen

at a month
i was sure i found
chinks, chunks
and a dozen knotholes

at a year
your fences made a decrepit
clown’s mouth on
an abandoned funhouse wall look

and today
your fences are afire
as you try
to resurrect them in time:

for my dear
i pour water upon your ruins
to the fizzle of my love

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