Another poem for Inez, inspired by Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall”
I’ve made her a poetry star, she says,
a woman excluded from her family portrait,
now famous in a small circle. Good writers
are good listeners, I say. Telling
other people’s stories is a tricky business;
even fictional figures may take offense.
But something in us loves a story; we meet
to write our lines, each on our own side,
to each the boulders that have fallen to each.
We wear our fingers rough with words
that sometimes drop unheard like stones,
and other times a gap appears
and, opened, fills with light. Good listeners,
I say again, can make good writers.
We knock down walls between us as we go.
I decided to re-post this poem with a new photo. To me, the rust on the fence is scarier than its sharpness. Either…
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