The St.
Clair Bridge Hurts by Georgiana Pettig The St.
Clair Bridge Hurts,
As when I look over,
I see the trees with parrots and hummingbirds from the Dominican Republic.
The wind floats arrows circling from above,
One cupid or so many pairs.
My hand points them to you,
My laughter crystal pours afterwards.
I peek at my side to collect your smile,
The loving gleam in your eyes.
Yet some runner is ready to hit me,
Staring at my stare.
I realize there is no smile,
No you,
No love.
My frozen cheek cannot move,
My burning eyes refuse to blink.
I glance back at the trees,
The parrots and the hummingbirds chirp again.
The wind plays cupid with the sycamore seed pods.
I relive the laugh and turn to see you.
An old man's icy gaze meets mine.
I do the exercise a dozen times until my heart aches.
I want to curl up out here on the pavement of the bridge,
Hide my face and bury that treacherous laughter that no longer exists.
Yes,
The Sinclair Bridge hurts.
