Chokeberry and Hawthorn

Across the river
a span of rubble,
a row of cement piers
staggering to keep their feet
beneath the twisted iron
with broken will.

The art of lattice work
fallen with the tower
into the river, a water
weary of the refuse
from a dying town.
The bridge has fallen.

Just one more broken connection,
no animosity intended.
It was a job, a paying one.
Plant the charges, light the fuse
then run… Run… away
from the humiliation.

The river, sleepless,
ever winding, perhaps dreaming
of the sea.  Along its banks
Chokeberry and Hawthorn
are beginning to bloom
as the barges lumber past.

2 thoughts on “Chokeberry and Hawthorn

  1. Thanks,

    It is a very economically drepressed area,
    but the impetus for this poem was the almost
    one hundred year old supsension bridge with some
    very intricate scrolled ironwork artistry was imploded
    rather than repaired. The bridge was no longer needed
    and no longer feasible to maintain for vehicular traffic
    but it was a slice of history that should have been preserved.

    There are some pictures here:

    (they planted 500 charges attached to one timer…it took three tenths
    of a second to bring it down)

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s