I met a blogger from a bygone land
Who spoke of a section of metal wall,
Half buried beside a dry riverbed
Topped with barbed wire that’s started to fall.
Every few hundred yards stands another slab
With patches of gold paint amid dull rust.
From one side of this vast landscape made drab
A hand had ruled uprooting any trust.

For there is text that peeks above the earth
“Behold the wall of GERRYMANDIAS:
Look on my works, bad hombre, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.


(With all due respect to Shelley)