Broken down plain & busted bridges
Give way at tough touch &
There was little life in the decay
Of structures held on invisibly.
In this way the day delay
Didn’t mean anything to the bolts
Rusted overcoat like cheap paint
Trees grown over zombied limbs.
A fallen plank, stop the big hand on the clock
Salvage seconds & celebrate disrepair
All that staring at broken bones
That break anyway.
© Adam Bresson
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