Thursday Song

A fence, chains pointed, separating the
cupped sanity from obligation’s
quills. Once humorous, now a
strangle. How it loves to see me in
this figure, they, those bats.

Even the air around me
notices, the off chords–
a new song, barely, a
tree looking back

from the other half
feeling sorry for me
but cheering. Me: grin.

travel from block here
to corner here.

agreeably incensed.