Fenceposts
Barbed wire makes illusive shadows
the sun is going down slowly,
a lazy red spoon
in your corner of the sky
it must be ten degrees
but you've been sitting on that
fencepost
all day
I never asked you questions
I know better when you're holding your hands
like that,
laced together
playing with the rings
your eyebrows are raised,
annoyingly aristocratic
you won't tell me what you've been thinking
decisions, decisions
I smile knowingly,
but stop when you look worried
it could be the cold
but there's a tear on your cheek
it was one year ago,
I brushed it off with my mitten.
You looked at me helplessly
"I'm getting an abortion"
Copyright © Rebecca Carson | Year Posted 2005
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