Wall
       

civilizations pile up against it

great books almost are littered there

saints pulp-headed from hitting
their heads against it

every so often some genius or crack-
pot invents a way
through the wall

the victory song is hardly ended when it
seems another wall has grown up

the theory that walls are illusions
is paraded like a pet afghan
it wins a prize that entitles the owner
not to mention walls but to go around
the word with academic discretion

I make it through the wall today observing
my neighbor's wife bending over trying
to get the lawn mower started

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Copyright © 2021 Malcolm Miller All rights reserved
from What I Am Always Waiting For
Grayson Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission