WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE: THE THIRD SPACE
BARBED BOUNDARY
BY DIANNE ASCROFT
Our land marches* his
He tramps his scraggy ground
Inspecting bald, waiting earth
I survey mine, counting the cost of fertiliser
We skirt the barbed boundary between us
No look or word exchanged
A fox slips under the bottom wire, hunting mice
Our land marches his
He trudges up the steep hill
Appraising sleek, sated cattle
I count mine, relieved none have strayed
The barbed boundary gleams, sun struck
Setting a blinding wall between us
A deer leaps over the top wire, into rushes.
Our land marches his
He squelches through boggy ground
Herding hungry cattle home
I mirror him, driving mine to their byre
The barbed boundary remains, unbending
Fortifying our differences.
Geese fly overhead, casting shadows across it.
*Marches – used colloquially in Fermanagh, Northern Ireland
‘marches’ means ‘borders’ or ‘adjoins’.
12 | MAY 2017