When the Light Found It

I've been taking the same route for three months.

The fence was just the fence—white, industrial, holding back

whatever it was supposed to hold.

Today I turned left instead of right

and the afternoon hit it like a spotlight.

Orange blooming through the paint like something alive,

like the metal was remembering

it was never supposed to stay white.

The rust had spread. Not overnight—

it had been happening all along.

I just wasn't looking from that angle.

I stood at the edge of the parking lot

watching it consume the galvanize,

watching the protective coat

give up the way I've given up

on so many small maintenance tasks,

so many things I told myself I'd fix

until they fixed themselves into something worse.

The fence doesn't care that I'm watching.

It will be more rust tomorrow.

I'll probably still take the long way around.