The Delaware is green
except where she
meets Camden
at the site of a
demolished prison.
The muddy swirls at her banks-
clouds inside water,
each hurricane of dirt
chaotically aligned by
the many strings which
thread the fabric of this river.
Little umber hurricanes violating
otherwise solid green movement.
Above which stands a fence
crowned in razor wire.
Securing us from ghosts
of prisoners.
Around us stands a fence
crowned in razor wire.
The only monument left
on an empty lot.
Inside us stands a fence
crowned in razor wire.
A phantom testament situated
on a barely populated urban peninsula.
We are a fence crowned in razor wire.
The muddy swirls are the tears of christ himself.
Excellent description. You’re on fire these days.
Alexander Marshall pembroke5@aol.com
It’s the workshop I’m in!
I like this one a lot. You are a great poet Sean :)
Thanks a lot, I’m happy you enjoyed it.