by Richard L. Provencher
11/21/2011 / Poetry
Visitors stare at cement walls
surrounding the sky
guard-posts every fifty feet, barbed
wire christening the top
coiled, glistening in the sun.
Behind this starched fence, a son
cries for mom and dad
wonders if they'll ever forgive him.
Jesus already did.
2011 Richard L. Provencher
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