Wednesday, September 26, 2018

WHAT WAS ITS NAME AGAIN?*


The bridge that spanned the river after the dam
before the lake? The one that witnessed some
that hung, some that jumped, but mostly just
the water passing slowly beneath, the water
filled with stories and tears wept, the water
from far away and from nearby. The bridge
observed it all.

*From E. Bachinsky’s poem For the Pageant
Girls: Miss Teen Motel 6, ET AL, from the book,
Home of Sudden Service.


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