The Bridge Between
Some of us think the strong will not leave
And that Armageddon will never come;
That is what we think. When we get home
And you are not there we start to disbelieve
The story we imagined, how if no one may see
These souls on their freeway out of here, which
Einstein predicted, that they don’t go. The bridge
Between worlds. A figure on the solitary quay.
Either way, there’s a hole where your body was.
Then of course there are rituals: eyelids to close
After the season; dogs to feed and find homes for;
A single tomb to dig or a room to build with four
Greek pillars at the corners. Coming from the crypt,
Your granddaughter nestled in my arms, and slept.