What Used to Let You See Through

The new fence is taller. The mesh is tight,

diamond holes too small for a stone.

I remembered throwing rocks through the old one at night—

that vibration singing through your bone.

You could see everything. Both sides

were visible. That was the design.

Now the rust blooms like dried blood.

The fence stands expensive, mean.

I threw a rock but it sank in the mud,

swallowed whole. Just disappeared. Unseen.

I waited for the vibration in my teeth,

that old feeling. But underneath

I'm older now. My teeth don't believe

in anything. They don't grieve.