This river's rib -
austere, up out of chaos,
bones firmed by steel -
built from what remains
in architects' heads
of dinosaurs -
bridge, rising above
destruction's smoke and dust;
I walk across and
watch sails like swaying cables
slip beneath,
laden barges hug its shadow,
ducks gather at its concrete feet.
Cars pass behind me
seeking the seas or prairies.
And in the distance,
buildings, roads,
hills and houses,
bolted deep beneath.
___
John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in International Poetry Review, Sanskrit and the science fiction anthology, Futuredaze with work upcoming in Clackamas Literary Review, New Orphic Review and Nerve Cowboy.
austere, up out of chaos,
bones firmed by steel -
built from what remains
in architects' heads
of dinosaurs -
bridge, rising above
destruction's smoke and dust;
I walk across and
watch sails like swaying cables
slip beneath,
laden barges hug its shadow,
ducks gather at its concrete feet.
Cars pass behind me
seeking the seas or prairies.
And in the distance,
buildings, roads,
hills and houses,
bolted deep beneath.
___
John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in International Poetry Review, Sanskrit and the science fiction anthology, Futuredaze with work upcoming in Clackamas Literary Review, New Orphic Review and Nerve Cowboy.
