Wilson Widening

How untied you are

how forever untying

water collapsing a makeshift bridge

charged with the task of rerouting

the capital region in this region.

Your spinal column more than a bridge

my architecture in war-time

factory floor materials brilliant in the sun.

In the mean time the welders work in the dark

cars searching the orange sparks no wind except

a companion’s breath,

a close companion.

Too leery to buckle down another

cityscape transfer, I stay standing.

The road bends back on itself.

The singing resumes I can’t hear anything

else how untied you are.

The wind just debris changing position,

so unlike a building, any building.

—Cheryl Quimba