Angel of the Span by Colin Dodds

Deep diesel odor
over Outerbridge Crossing
barge graveyard fishing village and landfill
Totem towers beyond Fresh Kills defy
the flattening salt marsh and sea

Lights on the Triboro Bridge array and disarray
Lanes and lines bend and topple to cacophony
Neither disorder nor harmony ever final

Incandescent holiness dressed in rags of accident
enlisted to stay the private sky of death
that freights every glance

Pinpoint of the Earth’s heart attack
Expensive home of difficult people
alternating shifts at meaning and oblivion
—hoping one will pay off

Sidewalks streets staircases walls rising plumb
Concrete hard enough to bash your brains out on
hard enough to launch heavenward from

Hard small scar in eternity
spanning the impossible clutching what crumbs
the infinite may show the inmates

Its angel doesn’t ask good or bad
only how far you rose from the earth
and how long you stayed so high

©Colin Dodds 2017

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