Poem: The Wall Bisecting

The Wall, Bisecting

Someone has been building a wall
down the center of the city. Pulleys
move bricks and tools up to the workers
on either side. I climbed
up the scaffolding, following the pulley
to a worker laying bricks.
I asked why he was building
the wall. He sighed, and said,

“We don’t know.” So I climbed back down
and packed my bag. At dawn, I left the city
by car, following the wall by way of the Westward
road alongside it. When I reached the edge of town

the wall did not stop.

It continued down the highway, bisecting
towns and villages. And always there were worksers
on either side, building it up.

I ceased following the wall when
I came to the coast and the road
stopped.

The wall didn’t.

It is bisecting the sea.