the wall

the torture goes on
I can hear the sounds of it
so I put up a wall
between me and it
and think of other things

it’s not like I haven’t tried to kill the bastard
who wields the voodoo doll and the long pins
I’ve looked everywhere

he eludes my recon
as if he were something I made up

in the night
all seems all right
until pain arrives
like in black SUVs
abducting innocence
driving across borders
to dungeons I can’t find

the heavyweights of science and religion
let me down

my backup
as well intentioned as myself
piss into the wind

I send them home with dry pants
grateful for their futile efforts

I send a plea for help

by carrier pigeon
to the Hall of Justice League

aim the spotlight with the bat stencil
at the clouds

send Lassie out
with her miraculous barking

a transparent arsenal at my feet
I think of wrapping my hands
around the throat of the invisible intruder
who creeps into our lives
dispensing a havoc
that becomes so mundane
I’m able to mix mortar

lay bricks

raise my wall

and think of other things

like that hedge I keep forgetting
the one where I can
hack off the useless limbs

snatch up the branches

fold them two times

three times

straining my forearms

so they’ll go in the bag

without ripping it to shreds

____________________

Bob Hudson is taking his talents to South Beach.

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