Bridge

The following is a poem from a collection entitled Ghosts, which I hand bound and letterpress printed at the Wells College Book Arts Center in Aurora, New York. If you like this, you might want to check out Squire and Dog.

Bridge
Beware, my friends, when by yourself,
rambling along the ridge.
I’ll confirm the story myself,
of the ghost upon the bridge.

I started when the light went out;
I’m told that’s how you know
the wife of Henry is about
to strike a fatal blow.

I shuddered and, for lack of sight,
braced for a collision,
when suddenly, a flash of white
skirted my verge of vision.

‘Don’t look at her,’ I’d been told,
‘despite how much you might
be strangely tempted to behold
this mistress of the night.’

‘You can’t trick me, I am not weak!’
I, for my own sake, told her.
With that, I managed not to peek
at her over my shoulder.

I crossed the creek, dodged to my dorm,
and bunkered in my bed,
and though my skin and guts were warm,
my heart was cold as lead.

Beware, my friends, when by yourself,
rambling along the ridge.
I’ll confirm the story myself,
of the ghost upon the bridge.

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About CobraQuiz

A political writer.
This entry was posted in Book Art, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Bridge

  1. Pingback: Dog | Chess Games with Gorillas

  2. Pingback: Squire | Chess Games with Gorillas

  3. Pingback: Bridge | Rita Feinstein, Dragon Princess

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