Diamond Mesh

Past the cracked lot, the fence stood, thin

and tall, a rusted argument.

Small diamonds of space, letting nothing in,

or out. Just a hard, bent sentiment.

Sun caught the wires, an orange gleam

on flaking rust, like old blood shed.

Inside, dandelions, a hopeful dream,

pushed through the asphalt, unled.

'No Trespassing' sign, crooked, mean,

swinging on a single staple, barely there.

I stood outside, between

what was mine, and what I couldn't share.

The green was vibrant, almost rude,

behind the sharp, unyielding line.

My own place felt misunderstood.

My wanting, too, a crooked sign.