The Bridge

Their hems collect the diamond dew
Their eyes reflect moonlight
Their toenails red tread the tired trail
Their footprints collect the silver seeping

Combing grass and looking glass
Dark shapes lift the bodies from the night
Customarily bled to leave no mark upon us
Save council crocodile weeping

When falling did they become
Open mouths the voice of constellations
Gyroscoping above their hair halos
Disarrayed by terminal velocity?

Nobody dreamed this firth of amber water
Where swirling sun submerging hisses
A hundred years of human sweat
To sever strangers’ kisses

This is written for the two lassies who jumped off the Erskine Bridge last week.
I had considered linking to some of the news stories but the hackneyed phrases, finger pointing and self serving insensitivity of it all leaves me unable to justify giving them credibility.
Georgia Rowe and Neve Lafferty deserved more than the ignorance offered up to them by the system.

October 2009

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