A Poem a Day (184): The bridge

The bridge

These days we try to reinvent ourselves,

Make mirrors reflect our repetitive days,

When the minutes tick like hours stretched

And the clock on the wall says nothing at all.

It’s all jammed. No one makes any sense.

I think they speak in Latin stilted words.

I see you agree in your inability to magnify.

They’re opening a bridge between two islands.

They say the password will be hard to come by

And the birds are climbing higher today.

There’s a march of grey where it felt blue.

Below, a lost girl wails in the centre street.

Glass cuts loose in dough fresh from the oven.

He says he’ll use a hammer to smash it all.

I hear the bridge will open up some day.

We feel the silent summer sinking out of tune.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, June 21, 2020