who would have thought

as star-like cinders
fell into the
river
the broken bridge would
at last one day
die?

& all the recollection
circling through
her mind
was her own hand
clutching the
can of gasoline
as a desperate prisoner
clutches cellhouse
bars

she didn't know why.

"it was already in flames
before you arrived,"
they would tell
her

she didn't know why.

she watched stoic
as it all collapsed into
the water
the last iron beam
that fell
ripped out a piece of
her soul
& took it under with
the wreckage

she now wanders the
weathered country roads
bare feet kissing gravel
the only affection
for miles

the vernal moon
begins to rise
& she harbors no offering,
no plea, no barter
not one word
to the unmerciful cosmos


but the bridge that
was her dying
heart