A fence slowly collapses
victim of an unspoken feud
August has bleached the wood
to a pale and brittle grey
beneath the remnants of a lilac bush
new wood barely surviving
on an ancient trunk
the afternoon sun sinking
into a wispy haze of cloud
such a small city
clinging to its riverbank
nights illuminated and reflected
a red and white glare which plunges
from bridge to water
a group of girls are watching
the fishing boat
another bluefish caught
and hauled onboard
they soon lose interest
this text is of course a lyric text
bounded but not shaped
fenced in by blue hills and brown river
shaded by a magnolia tree
and the neighbor stares angrily
from his upstairs window
as the laughing girls stroll past
bitterness twisting his lip
beneath his silent eyes.

Paul Ilechko is a British American poet and occasional songwriter who lives with his partner in Lambertvi le, NJ. His work has appeared in many journals, including The Bennington Review, The Night Heron Barks, Atlanta Review, Permafrost, and Pirene’s Fountain. His first book is scheduled for 2025 publication by Gnashing Teeth Publishing.