Fences surround the property lines for miles,
Each empire exact, a swift measure of authority
A visual persuasion that this land can
Be kept apart and kept from others
For families still in disarray.
As always, brothers peek out of
Barbershops along the way,
Eager for fight, aiming
For a father’s love
Slow in coming.
Pass by these little messages, try to see
The beyond, the tingling of cool water on
Fevered flesh, the urges not mistaken now,
The beauty something all
Can grasp, perhaps even a child
To pause, to say it’s
All right now.
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Merry Christmas to you!!
Love Tinka