Half a Night

We took
three trains
in the
seven-oh-clock
midnight
of Montreal
in February,
just to see
the gap,
the stretching
of icy metal
over icier
water,
and all the
while you
smiled and
talk of the
great bridges
of the world,
the ones that
you would
see one day,
ones that
brought countries
together, ones
that made
you feel
light and
vertical,
ones that made
the walk
to get groceries
easier,
and when
we finally
arrived we
heard the dry
crack of ice
shifting,
the silence of
cold streets.

There we stood,
in the dark,
shivering, waiting
for the bridge
to reveal some
secret, some
knowledge of
the years spent
holding the
two halves
together, but it just
stood there,
as dark
as the night,
unflinching,
holding the gap.