Fencing

Scouring, the unmarked 
silences― 
for the invisible executions. 

My name was 
on top, for exclusion 
from the list. 

Now you can read the 
applicant's account 
under the sun's fault. 

A thrill of terror 
runs through the buds. 
A celebration will stop the words. 

There was no other 
way, to know the pink of 
a dying rose.