with hinges of steel, cross the bridge of velvety nougat
with rails of silk fluttering in the fog, cross the bridge
of slow drying two-component glue
every step closer to the one coast
further away from the other
we don’t know how it happened
we remember it differently
how the coasts grew so far apart
how we forgot the bodies with lungs and eyes
we cannot hear babies crying
birdsong catfights lawnmowers
only see the bombs from a distance
what’s the deal
should we curtsy or do we kiss on the cheeks or hug
if we meet accidentally on the bridge
should we talk about the fog or refer to it as smog
should we ask how did it go
with the wedding the divorce and the abortion
the job seeking the rats and the tango
whether you found a good spot to park
before you began walking to meet me
Cindy Lynn Brown is a Danish/American poet living in Denmark, she has published eight books and been translated into numerous languages. She is also the organizer of an international poetry festival in Odense, Denmark.
cindylynnbrown.com
