Mckinley Bridge
It still takes all of me
to not slither like a cunning snake,
to not cower like a hungry little dog,
to not wail like a cat with its claw stuck in living
room furniture
at the sight of the shuddering
silver alighting
from the sudden refinery breath
beneath our wheels.
And if this is how the world ends,
alright.
And if this is how I go,
let’s go.
Let me go as sudden as
a light flashing once among others
that still shocks,
still splinters
like a hunk of wood
beneath soft baby fingers.
