Bridge
It glitters against the
night,
a necklace of light
spanning a dark bottomless
gulf.
And at dawn
looms out of the fog,
cables wreathed, deck
draped
in white billowing mist.
It sits on nothing but
cloud,
great piers invisible
footings ungrounded.
And its sound, distilled
by heavy air
seem unnaturally loud,
ethereal, uncanny
detached.
A bridge to nowhere
exempt from gravity.
Tons of concrete and steel.
Bolts, the size of compact
cars.
And high tension cable,
thick as a man
and taut as piano wire
stretched too high to
hear.
The illusion of
weightlessness.
The extravagance
of beauty for its own
sake.
I clench my shoulders,
stiffen my back
against the damp chilly air.
A horn wails
its deep tremulous
mourning.
And the fugitive bridge
has furtively vanished.
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