Tuesday, 5 February 2019

Mr. President:

There is many  
a living thing

That doesn’t love 
a wall.

Like hunters, rabbits  
and yelping dogs

Like the pine trees
and apple orchards

Like human beings-- 
Who aren’t cows--

And quirky elves don’t 
like them much either.

The frozen-ground-
swells beneath can crack 

Even the strongest stone.
And there are too many gaps

Between the stones
nonetheless. You can 

Rub your fingers rough
and raw by placing 
and replacing

The fallen stones.
Mr. President:

I see you walking in the darkness.

An old rough savage-stone 

Firmly grasped in each 
armed hand. 

Like an aged hypothermic man 
who is lost 

and cannot find his way

Like your crotchety, stubborn 
neighbor beyond the hill.

Mr. President:

Spring is coming.
Let’s walk the lines,

Remove the walls 
separating pines 
and trees bearing fruit.

Mr. President:
Forget your father

He was so very wrong.

Good walls, like selfish men,
make bad neighbours.

© Gil Hoy

Gil is a Boston poet and trial lawyer who is studying poetry at Boston University through its Evergreen program. Hoy received a B.A. in Philosophy and Political Science from Boston University, an M.A. in Government from Georgetown University, and a J.D. from the University of Virginia School of Law. He served as a Brookline, Massachusetts Selectman for four terms. Hoy’s poetry has appeared, most recently, in Ariel Chart, The Penmen Review, Right Hand Pointing/One Sentence Poems, The New Verse News and Clark Street Review.