The top strand of barb has been long abandoned,
given up on.
Too many 'roos cruelly hooked themselves,
were found hanging upside down,
rolling-eyed and hysterical.

No longer tensioned,
it undulates to its own frequency.

The mesh beneath
has been pushed up, stretched
forming skewed portals for 'roos, rabbits, wombats
and the occasional, adventurous echidna.
Easy to spot.
The shuffle of multiple paws slowing, queue-forming
to reach known hole -
tracks as obvious as landing strips.

Repairs are more symbolic
than useful.

Tonight when the marauding hordes descend,
poor fence will only fend off
the more timid incursionists. Like all fences,
great walls or a-part-tidal divisions,
when the choice is between
survival
and imminent death,
the privileged few and a needy infinitude,
the wall
will be breached.