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Over the Wall
A door made from the haphazard weaving
of wood, rust, and ivy.
Smudged newspapers flap their wings
in a wayward wind. Bird feathers
emerge from wet claw prints. Faded condoms
spill to feed the mouths of empty cans.
The garden has no house,
rubble and broken verges limn a floorplan.
Weeds grapple, roots maul residual slabs of concrete.
Black bags regurgitate desiccated bacon rinds.
A boy finds treasures,
a nickel can opener,
a pen with a lady, whose clothes fall off
when turned upside-down,
a dog-chewed superman doll.
That night with dreaming eyes
he flew over the city with a half-naked lady.
while a can-opener
slowly opened up his adulthood.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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