railbridge in september (or day for night)
by j.a. Gingrich
If this were an American movie
the music would swell,
and we would lean
into each other for what might seem like
forever.
But here we are in Canada - dead centre -
shivering
forty feet above the water in St. Jacob’s
under a moon
so full
I wonder if soon this tiny river might swell
with salt water pulling in from either coast
(up here we know that everything bursts at the seams
under moons like this)
In an hour or two
this railway bridge
will turn raft
shuddering dully
with the thump
of each passing fin
we will be still
or silent
mouthing the cycle of moonlight
to fin
to water
and only when the tide
has swallowed
every visible gap
will we sense its shift
and gape
as it aloofly trails the moon back home
beneath us
two forty foot walls
of water will leave
just as they came
one rushing east
the other slinking west
and we here
in our Canadian movie
will bend
and follow
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