In This Town We Find


in this town we find
there is a closed bridge
&i want to cross it so badly i pout
until you say, okay, even though it’s dangerous
even though the man on the tracks might blow his whistle
&turn us in for slipping past the chains
&what about the furthermore?
what if our love collapses on the bridge
and we lose our pictures? or my hair gets wet?

so the bridge shakes its rusty steel and wire snaps
&i hear the rail man’s burly voice lifting my wet body from the river
saying, “she had no place” like wake people say, “it’s a goddamned shame”
&right about then, to my surprise
&absolute delight
you start running across the slipshod planks &so do i
&the weight of us running across the bouncing bridge is thrilling

&it is dangerous
knowing we may become unhinged at any moment
over the rocks we cannot identify below us
with the water burbling over the tops of their backs
in this weave of water we don’t know the name for

Real Toads Tuesday Platform



  1. Wow, this was a great write, and I liked how the perspective shifted so I wasn’t sure whether this was real or not, in the past or the present. Excellent – I’ve missed your words.

  2. Great read. Thanks so much for sharing this. I can relate to the thrill of danger and ignoring the voice in your head telling you no. Reminds me of a lot of my teenage years. Keep writing, you’ve got something real here.

  3. How I love this! Brilliantly sustained.

    • Great, Rosemary. Glad it struck you in a good way. I walked this condemned bridge this summer on a road trip through Colorado.

  4. This is wonderful poetry. Such an excellent metaphor expressed with skill.

    • It’s nice to hear I have some skill after taking somewhat of a break from writing this summer. Glad for the feedback on my blog.

  5. Angle – you always have a good one, Angie. Your pens are consistently fresh, poignant, sometimes wry and funny, other times taut and suspenseful (like here). Thanks ~

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