The Bridge
I look to the horizon
east and west, sour days
little rib, the body prone
hiding a soft white belly
the bridge, a weight in dreams
a tiding of magpies scouting
river and clouds and flowers
I join a search party waning
coming the other way, gibbous
moon, argument and laughter
another group to meet us.
V-J Day, Shanghai
© 2015 Rob Schackne
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