The Arches….
I dredged up another oldie for this week’s Poetry Thursday prompt: ‘Rivers’
That day we floated down the brownish river
in a makeshift ship, a construction site derelict
stolen in the half light of dusk.
We were maybe twelve in wet blue jeans and tee shirts
rolled at the sleeves according to local custom
in those placid fifties.
The tainted shallow water was no hindrance that warm August day;
to us it was just cool in the heat.
The tall dark bridge seen through the downstream haze
looked imposing from where we sat. Its high shadowed arches
rising ominously to the clouds.
Our progress slowed in the shallows by dragging the old mortar box
over the mud and rocks, stopping occasionally to chase the Crayfish
from their hiding places that summer on the river called “Bronx”.
Looking ahead now to that bridge, fearing to go under it
lest some strange thing come from the shadows
of its tall arches looming ahead, so close now portending doom.
Yet we push on slowly, determined to make memories
of our young fear not realizing we would never make it that far.
1993-2006
.
