I’ve been picketing your fences
for all these many years
holding up the cardboard signs
with slogans meant for your eyes only.
I was going to wear you down
the runway wrapped around my hips,
a broken-in pair of blue jeans
as close as a secret lover.
the blackout sirens sing to me
to crash along the shore at dawn
the street lamps flicker off then on
then off into the wild blue yonder
window breaks in pieces, shreds
of decency reflected in the surface.