Bridge

it’s a long walk
to the middle of
that bridge

and the chill is fierce
on the side
of midnight you chose

I like to think
that as the breeze
whistled through the wires

you were reminded
of the trees
to which we nailed

precarious floors
steering wheels
dread pirate flags

and the fence
paling plank
out over the yard

how each of us knew
it was much
much too far to jump

and how each
of us was lying
that we had done it

I like to think
that’s why you didn’t
that at least, if not for love

This poem appears in


Pass it Along

© Brendan Bonsack
April 2016