I need to build a stone-cold wall
Encircling my yard.
Eight feet tall (with broken glass)
And rock burned cruel and hard.
I need locked gates of wrought iron,
The color of blackest night.
With spear-shaped tips so razor sharp
They slit and slash and bite.
I need a fence of hurricane
To hold in barking beasts
Of howling gales and lightning
And thunder from the east.
I need a wall of rubble
From cities long destroyed.
Where heroes fame and glory
Have vanished in the void.
I need some concertina coils
Wound tightly 'round my heart
To stop its beating all a-boil
Or lest it tries to start.
I need a wall of mossy earth
From all the love she gave.
She granted me my sense of worth,
In silence from her grave.
©2015
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