The Gap
My neighbor says I should prune the hedge.
He texts: don’t leave debris in my yard like
last time. I instruct the pruner, pay extra,
take photos to prove his yard is clean, then
leave. Soon, pings: he says
the crew has blown leaves under the fence. His
whole house is dusty, dining set, leaves
between slats. Pictures show a slim
run of leaves– all that fit through the tiny
gap at the base of the fence. I think:
he is nuts!
He says I should clean his windows,
skim the four leaves off his hot tub.
How to respond? I think:
truth is required. Kindness too. But
But I forward his texts to everyone I know –
I’m not proud of it. One friend responds:
I like my neighbors.
It is Easter, and though capitulation
is not my strength, there is Christ.
I text: I’m sorry. Please forgive the mess.
He writes back: you are so
passive aggressive. Two sides of a fence.
A persimmon tree over both, at once full
and lush and scraggly/sick. I have sinned
enough. The wind is up. It tousles neat
hedge tops, stops a robin mid-flight. The bird
hovers, adjusts, vibrates.
*
Mila Holt is a former television writer. She has an MFA from Pacific University, where faculty awarded her the merit-based Washburn Scholarship. Her work has been accepted to The Calyx Journal, The Vassar Review, and other publications. Mila lives in Northern California.
What a neighbor! Great poem!