bridge

there is a bridge
over water somewhere
with bricks of glass miming
what little they know
of stone

shadow masons with
blotched out faces
scurrying up the shaking pillars
like ants with hammers
blinded by their goal

to save
the supports oblivious
to the cars soaring
on their shoulders
driving somewhere

and there is a wobble
the waves are rough now
paint like stone fragmenting
to its base
to the face

terrified of wind and water
breathing heavy and alone
as the ants run home
uneasy
about its apathy

for the cars
soon to fall.