There is a ‘crack’,
And loud voices beyond
The white picket fences I skip by.
I see me, thinking now,
This is me, alone.

There are problems,
And capital houses beyond
The newly-strung fences, I walk by,
You see, traveling now,
To shop-unmall choices.

There are children
Involved. And, beyond
Olden ramshackle fences, I drive by,
You fear arrowing
Earth phases, older visions.

There is a crack
Within so many walls beyond
The captive-word fences, I help hide,
You know are bleeding.
Stop plugging false worth, helped

By images of unreputed massacre
Of recognized singular souls. Beyond
The wails of continued fences I abide,
You are fading, water-color laden,
This is me, alone.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 12/2/07