Skin of the day peeling slow on the spit
grease and grace sliding away, our bridge
falling, knocked to rubble, cables split
and writhing from concrete, Medusan snakes –
light yawning in the gap where darkness stood.
Piledrivers bang all night, the neighbors wake
and brood, the beams, the piers, the rivets, the wood,
the plates, the span that some passed over, some
passed under, braces, girders, parapet,
a donkey bridge of load and stress, not spun
or spired – untrussed and finally, obsolete.
Swarms flash and veer in high arc lights –
Roar of unmaking, purr of summer night.