In Idaho
the fences march away from me
uneven rows of Xs
with horizontal poles resting in their joinings.

(The sad thing about cows
is that these chest-high Xs
are enough to keep them in.)

There are fences between our bodies, too.
A “no” should be a mile-high,
But the first rape throws it to the ground
and after

I cannot build a fence
high enough
strong enough
to keep them out.

Poem by Annie Jadin, speakingvoiceless.wordpress.com


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