the triptych of a bridge

volumes its water...

a passable erasure.

of an altar nothing should

be said.

the triptych of a bridge

smoothens over again.

poised as light murmuring

to its confidant.

setting aside the differences

of air pulled by constant

traffic.

there's this triptych of a

bridge, that knows what

wind is made of...here and

there.

separate as ways gone as far

as they can go.

seeing passed doubles.