Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Summer Poems & Prose Volume 1: j.a. Gingrich

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


But here we are in Canada - dead centre -


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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