The Bridge Blown to Bits

Rt 21 Bridge Imploded

Where is that confounded bridge?
I in my kerchief; J George in Hawaii
A needle might prick; a dog follows me

One cessation: ceased; not even a mouse
Time to settle; like so much poor rap
Down
Down
Down
No better mouse-trap

Where nothing in front of me
It doesn’t bleed
It doesn’t need breathing
And in some years to pass
Might come thus: Uncovered

They’ll dig their way through
Tool sounds;
A curious thud:
Someone will say,
โ€œif it weren’t for all this mud!โ€

[excerpt from something i wrote many moons ago, but not so easily found, so i placed it here, in this more prosaic form {and altered, somewhat}]