Whitewashing the Fence

I've constructed a picket fence around me to keep jackanapes out Through pickets they can see me, but I never allow them to touch private parts of me I keep concealed, and don't talk about so much I keep whitewashing my fence, cleansing it from things left in doubt When my boards become exposed to prying eyes that shouldn't see I open another bucket of watered-down paint and reach for a brush to cover the flaws, my faults within, and I am always in such a rush to whiten and brighten the facade out front. The veneer veiling me. There is a gate with well-worn hinges, but usually it's kept locked to prevent invaders who would dare trespass on my every thought Those who'd despoil my fence with graffiti and rip my boards apart Hence, one reason why I keep a supply of whitewash well-stocked I am the prismed reflection of my surroundings, including my fence where no webs shall arachnids weave within my weathered boards. I will apply a coat of whitewash to my palisade as the need affords It is a beachhead between me and crawlers; my penury of defense Twining around my picketed railings, grows a vine of climbing roses The virtuous blooms are never cut to prolong each inculpable stem They shroud malevolent fingers pointed at me that would condemn I shrive every foible and failing that my whitewashed fence encloses May 28, 2023 W T F Poetry Contest Sponsor: John Lawless