PONT NEUF IS FLOODING

JACKIE SIZEMORE

 
 

The armed guards pay us no mind
as we toe down the slick grated stairs.
 
Dark Seine water pools
the cement island of river drudge
endangered with one bad flood.
 
Skip over the trash, the weeds
pink polluted reflections lap at cement borders
like a tongue ready to swallow
the submerged boat ramps to nowhere.
 
Blackened anchor rings
bump out from underwater sides
of this cement beast
like anchors for ghosts.
 
Past sand walkways
we steer ourselves to the point
the shaped edge of the island
now parallel with the river.
 
Willow trees bunch, sag, dip
leafy toes down.
I pose as silhouette,
sinking.

 

 

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