Fringe Tree

I wander the border
the scraggly
edge
looking for breaks in the
forest, the overgrown
corduroy
trail where horses
strained against leather
traces, steam-
train nostrils swallowing time
and rain

I hear my heart barking
snapping its rusty
chain
glance back for
border guards
or fellow
smugglers searching

for a way through

I am always alone
The exit is always along

the periphery, never
the centre

Edges
have their own beauty
mystery, liberty
promise

I promise
to never stop
wandering

Kim Goldberg