THE SCRIBBLED MAN

There was a man drawn on her fence,
just shoulders and the back of his head.
She passed him on her way to work,
in time she became quite fond of him.

She even went to the back of the fence
just to check that he had no face.
She nagged him to tell her what he saw,
until he said, “The inside of the fence.”

She painted him on a wooden box
then locked some secret objects in it.
She asked what he could see in there,
he said, “It’s a different kind of inside.”

He began to walk in front of her
or maybe he had always been there.
As much as she would inch around him,
he’d inch around the same amount.

She asked him if he knew some place
where half-things find their other part,
so she could see his face, see inside,
know for once the business of a leaf.

She took his hand and made the leap
into the silver at the back of the mirror.
When she got there, and saw his face,
it wasn’t at all as she’d imagined.

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