And I am
walking in faith
afraid,
on my way to shul
trying to see
everything at once.
Drivers’ smeared features,
hands on steering wheels, looking over
my shoulder,
very fine people everywhere
can’t see my every fiber clenched,
twitch musculature tight
as a drawn bow
even before they’ve got
me sprawled,
shot on the sidewalk,
EMTs hovering over me,
angels in orange jumpers,
I want to tell them I still
I still I still can breathe,
I want to tell them, I plead
still they still me,
don’t let me go staring into the sun —
I want to see what’s coming
all at once,
my love’s name on my lips,
and the traffic blows by
like none of this could ever happen
while I watch
the opposite of light
lope toward me
with menace,
hands hidden in pockets.
This bridge is narrow —
very fine
people on both sides
feeding
on the abyss.
Photo by Michael Dawes.
