Posts Tagged ‘burning bridges’

When the bridge is gone, the narrowest plank becomes precious.
—Hungarian Proverb

The bridge is gone, after all,
dismantled and then burned,

out of spite or for warmth,
I could not tell. Perhaps both.

I suppose that eventually
the termites would have gotten it.

Nothing lasts forever. I know that.
But I wish you had left

something more than a pile
of ash, some other way I might

cross over and meet you today.
As it is, the ravine is too deep

and steep to cross without a bridge,
and the ridge goes on in both directions

as far as I have ever walked.
Sometimes I imagine wings, but

we both know that is just imagining.
Perhaps if I look hard enough

around the site where we
constructed the bridge long ago,

I could find just one narrow plank.
Sometimes I forget the metaphors.

I practice just picking up the phone,
dialing your number, saying Hello.

But then I remember the curling smoke.
And I put down my ideas

and tell myself it’s better this way,
though already I have forgotten why.

Read Full Post »

after the bridge
is burnt it doesn’t much matter,
the why


everything breaks
eventually and something
contains all this brokenness


there was never
a bridge anyway—it’s our own
charred flesh we smell

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: