The Bridge
I didn’t know you well.
Didn’t even really like you--
if we’re being honest.
But here you are
ten years later.
To think--if you’d lived
I’d have forgotten you long ago.
But instead I still wonder
about the bridge that let you go
and the water that swallowed you.
If you were afraid
or changed your mind.
They say it happens.
I remember
your father’s voice on the phone,
the hollowness of it.
Gathering together
your toothbrush and alarm clock,
apples and coffee mug.
The striking banality of
things left behind.
8
0
0