Bridge poems

I’ve been writing little poems in my head as I walk to or from work over the Casco Bay Bridge. I have to memorize them as I walk – the cold has been bricking my iPhone in moments and I haven’t made a habit of bringing paper and pencil. I’ve been “publishing” them on Facebook, with lovely encouragement from lovely friends. But I don’t know if that means I’ve given them to Facebook… And I don’t have the energy to read their policies, and they might change anyway. So, it occurs to me to publish them here.

They aren’t great, they are composed in something less than the 18 minutes it takes to walk from work to home, but they are the product of a muscle I want to learn to flex and control and develop. As is my bravery!

Here’s the latest. I’ll post #1-#3 next.

Bridge commute poem #4

What is that mark in the mud?

A parallelogram of lines dragged by some departed object,

Or maybe the surface expression of something below?

I’ve watched that spot for weeks.

Why do some scars persist, and some fade?

Geography, I suppose. Location, location, location.

This scar is in the soft silt behind a granite wall,

Protected like the soft spot behind a rib.


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