there are hollyhocks
and gardenias and fences
white and gently weathered

concealing neighbors
who whisper about your sagging
jowls
and the growing mole
on your neck

occasionally they knock
steaming dishes of zucchini
casserole in hand
and compliment you
on your bravery in the face
of trial

once the door shuts
they go right back 
to whispering