—after Robert Frost

There’s something there is

That doesn’t love a wall,
that leans ladders against it
so desperate mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and sons and daughters
can spill over the top.

The work of saws is another thing.
The builders come after to repair
and ask what materials can be used
That will be impervious to violation.

There is something there is that loves a wall,
That spends enough money on it
To feed the people of a starving country,
To house a nation of homeless.

The work is called superlative
and touted as a solution to problems
a wall can never solve.

It’s sunk deep in concrete
In the dry ground of the already unwelcoming desert
And soars high above the slow-blooming cactus.
What more deterant does such a wall need?

But demoralized people don’t stop to ask
if the wall is there to keep them out
or to protect them from what’s within.

The adage isn’t always right;
Fences don’t always
make good neighbors