Fence by Corey Mesler


for Margie

She built that fence
in the snow. All
we saw of her
was her red anorak
and the upward
flash of her tool, a
hammer. Later,
after her husband died
and we tried to visit
she wouldn’t come
to the door. Now all
that’s left is that fence,
weathered, sturdy,
still barring us,
though she has moved
away. She took her
dog with her but she
left the dish behind.
Now, it sits there like
a bright blue plug. We
think if we remove it
the whole yard may
swirl inward, down Hell’s
drain, taking house and
tree and logpile, leaving
one reassuring fence, inviolate.

Corey Mesler
Corey Mesler has published in numerous journals and anthologies. He has published six novels, three books of short stories, numerous chapbooks and two full-length poetry collections. He has been nominated for a Pushcart numerous times, and two of his poems have been chosen for Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac. He runs a bookstore in Memphis.

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