Walls Make the Best of a Bad Job

What if tales, their shells,
Their bricks, shapes, and paths,
Can be known as well
As you might know walls—
Forms you might not make,

But know how are made,
For the most part, know
How they work, for sure,
What they’re meant for, where
They fall down or fail.

You’ve lived with such walls
All your life—whole worlds
Of walls, big and small—
Play walls and stern walls
And walls just for art—

Walls you loathe or like,
Are glad for, may hide
In or be kept out
By—walls paid no mind
Most of the time, right?

They get to be bores
That half steer your ways,
Like traps full of gaps
You’ve learned too well—cracks,
Doors, bricks, scraps, heaped, shelled.