Love Thy Neighbour

Love Thy Neighbour

But what would it take, to turn
on your neighbour, with whom
you have leaned on the fence,
(shared the cost eight years ago)
and talked of pruning roses,
the perfect time to pick plums,
and treating yellow grass stains
from wandering dogs that
belonged to neither of you?

Whose permission, exactly,
do you need, to vault the fence,
or smash the treated lap panels,
to enter a no man's land
and walk on carpets, soft
and deep, of snow in summer,
cerastium, or sedum, succulent,
red flowers like
blood?

What if you saw, now
in the planting, motifs
of a belief not yours,
symbols carved in a bench,
every difference you stored
for years? And you accept,
yes, the truth has gone,
and you can do
This.