The Truth About Bridges

A poem plus an invitation

First thing, I wanted to share an invitation. This Sunday, April 13 at 3:00 pm EDT, I’ll be joining three other poets at an online poetry reading and open mic hosted by

LeeAnn Pickrell

and

Lisa Jensen

. The four of us (myself,

Keith Aron

,

X. P. Callahan

, and

Jonathan Potter

) will each read for a few minutes and then we’ll open the mic for anyone else who’d like to share. If you’d like to attend - to share poem of your own, or just to listen - send me a private message and I’ll forward you the registration link.

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What’s the best bridge you’ve ever crossed? I mean a real bridge, not a metaphorical one. I know this is a poetry newsletter, but let’s be concrete for moment. My husband and I drove across the Skye bridge in Scotland once. Pretty magical. I used to love the Tappan Zee Bridge in Upstate New York, with a view of New York City on a clear day, and that hook to right at the end before you left the wide open expanse of the Hudson and dove into the rocky cliffs. It’s been rebuilt and is now the Mario Cuomo Bridge. I’ve no cause to drive that route anymore, so I can’t say how it has changed.

The Deer Isle Bridge spanning Eggemoggin Reach is long and narrow, and even though it has been considerably shored up since it’s original construction, it still feels like it sways a bit in the wind to me. But the view is hard to beat. We once drove the Severn Bridge between England and Wales. It was too foggy to see much, but we spent a lovely day amongst castles and ruined abbeys before our drive back. And we visited a chateau in France that is itself a bridge, constructed across the river Le Cher. A very grand sister to the covered bridges of New England, of which I’ve known many.

Bridges can feel momentous on a long drive, marking a point along the way where the view opens up, breaking the monotony. We use them as symbols of change, or a point of no return - we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, that’s a bridge too far, if Johnny jumped off a bridge would you jump too? But I think bridges are wonderful all on their own, no metaphors necessary.

Below is a poem about bridges from the February Poetry Adventure. What’s your relationship to bridges? Is there favorite one that marks a point on a familiar journey? Have you ever written a poem about a bridge?

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The Truth About Bridges

As a child she pretended to be afraid of bridges

She didn't remember at what age
it began or which bridge was the first,
but once it started she couldn't stop

In for a penny
In for a pound, she supposed

Had her sister found her out
she would have crowed over it

She's just doing it 
for the attention, she might 
have sneered

And perhaps that was true
Everyone looked at her,
spoke to her, noticed her
whenever they crossed a bridge

Thinking about it now
so many years later
she doesn't see what's so bad
about wanting to be noticed,

The truth was she loved bridges
Still does

Their simplicity, 
no choices to make 
until you've crossed over

Their generosity in existing
only to take you to the other side

She loved them almost as much 
as she loved feeling noticed
for a moment along the way

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Thanks so much for reading, everyone!