Suspension Bridge
Monday, I drove by
a ladder on the bridge,
resting as if someone
had gone up and over
without a trace.
Tuesday, the same ladder
and ropes as if for rescue.
The sidewalk blocked
by barricade tape.
Mid-week, a tiny table
and a thermos and late
afternoon, a bright flash
like a signal flare
or glint of keys.
Thursday, still no body,
only you driving past,
eyes dead ahead,
Manilow on your lips.
Friday, I called in sick.
I couldn’t bear the scene,
changed or the same,
too many possibilities
lost or found.
Cathryn Cofell of Appleton, Wisconsin is the author of Sister Satellite (Cowfeather Press), six chapbooks, and performs her poems to the music of Obvious Dog on Lip. Sometimes they let her sing and shake the apple. More at www.cathryncofell.com.
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