catapult magazine

Checkpoint

by Amanda Caldwell

There is a great chasm fixed
between you and me,
and if I want to cross over,
I cannot,
swimming toward the mines
in no man’s land.

I lived four years in a walled city,
and I never dreamed,
did I,
I never dared hope
the wall would fall,
until it did.

Overturn my doubts
like a flimsy cardboard Trabant,
and let your screaming love
dance with pickaxes
to demolish my concrete resistance.
Scoop up the jagged pebbles,
souvenirs,
of the bland and reasonable
thoughts I used to keep you at bay,
spattered now with color
and shattered into pieces.
Dance with joy among the rubble.

Make my heart the Jericho.
Defeat me,
win me.

Cross over
for me.