Wednesday, October 14, 2015

2015 OctPoWriMo #14: The Bridge


The Bridge

It’s one of those bridges,
a rickety suggestion
of rope, secured
either end
by hope
and maybe
a nail, a tenpenny
leftover rusted through
and ready to fail.

I cling, I claw,
palms raw, uncertain
how I ended up here,
a thread away
from…

blue, misted hues
of unknown depth.
Is it water?  Or is the
ground too far away
for eye to find it.

Behind, the
echoes of the girl
I was - toddler, tween
and twenty - eyes
shut and shaking
tears.

The rope
creaks.

My
future
self rises
from chest
to leave me
with all the rest.

When the rope snaps,
we fall.

Somewhere,
fingers once mine 
tuck a tenpenny 
nail into pocket.
and my feet
leave
without me.




Poet's Note:  The prompt was the bridge from yesterday to today.

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