On the dog walk for a neighbour I stopped
at the bridge. They were working on it,
builders moving arm over shoulder, cropped
hair stiff with sweat from the effort. Repairs,
industrial glue to make the bridge stronger.

They moved with choreography stolen from
the Royal Ballet; I put in music with their jumps
and leaps across shonky scaffolding and old
wooden platforms. Holding their stretches
well, across the pylons, loading heavy bars.

I was lucky they were there - tommorow I'd
be beside myself with fear, the bridge swinging
with the wind; it's legs softening against the
spreading rust, the loosening soil. I saw that future
often, the failing of the structure, falling steel.

But I should of known better - the builders work
hard with earnest temper, grafting to create a
safer crossing. Safer than the rickety wooden
raft of years gone by - whatever the tide it sank
without complaint. The bed is clogged of wrecks.

When I walk the bridge, I look down on them and laugh,
try and spot the weak links that lead to flooding in the aft.
For me, the last three or four pieces that you've written (including this one) have been good, but not fantastic. You've been refining a new voice, it seems, churning out solid pieces and trying to find something... different? I highly anticipate reading something from you that you put effort into.

Or maybe I'm totally wrong. That's just my impression.
this is written very, very well. most of it thrilled me but I was left still wanting in the end

i'll come back to this
Quote by Arthur Curry
it's official, vintage x metal is the saving grace of this board and/or the antichrist

e-married to
& alaskan_ninja