Poetry

Bridges

With eyes like darkening clouds,

She watches her reflection rise

As she pours a double measure

Of whisky.

Waiting, holding each breath in,

She builds a dam, to shield herself

From the fear of him,

Saying it aloud.

He stretches a hand like a bridge,

The river between them

Offering no quarter.

Her silence denies his attempts.

He steels himself, and embarks on

His last hope of redemption;

She becomes a river,

Burbling softly over rocks and the

Turbulent river-bed.

His words break down the dam:

The water within her breaks its banks, and

Cascades like a waterfall.

He hands her a tissue,

But she takes, instead, his hand.

Jon Payne