a wall brick
and stone right in front of my face.
Right across the road
that leads to my future.
Your eyes glinting, you watch
me stand and weep with frustration
as the wall grows higher. I'm as unable
to move it as chips of stone blow into my
face, into my eyes. Frozen as a statue my
nails grate against the rising bricks of force.
Laura Dennison Vargas
Poet LAURA DENNISON VARGAS works and writes in Brooklyn, NY, the home of American Mensa.