September 27, 2010

Her name seems to change
Every fifteen to twenty miles;
Sometimes she’s just a number,
Some know her by a color and
Others call her by name…
(It’s Aurora, but she’d never tell)
There was a time when everyone
Was excited to see her
With her help, great distances
Could be travelled with ease
Now, after many years,
Her back’s broken and crumbling
And her edges are all worn down
Too many people have gone
Up and down her gnarled path
Sixty years go by and soon
Dirt has gathered, rubbing a
Long grey smudge across her
Blacktop midsection
All she’s ever good for
Is taking one last leap
Or buying sin by the hour
Even her triumph,
Towering by the waterfront,
Disintegrates with each dawn
The sad state of things are
Floating on the arches of
Her one gleaming bridge
Stretching across the night sky
Waiting for the day she’ll
Let herself fall



2 Responses to “Ninety-Nine”

  1. mycetrap Says:

    May our words take flight and find those they were meant to reach. Let us hope their eyes are open.

  2. Iris D Says:

    Haunting and riveting poetry. Sad but full of imagery.


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