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HANGING UPSIDE-DOWN FROM A BRIDGE RAILING / ByIl Travis for Pat Ikeda Maybe I am a little lonelier On these cloud-quieted Winter days, half-hidden In my brown jacket as I dangle From the railing: A bored man Should be an explorer— But everything I desire Navigates constantly away from me; And so I try to cling to My own vanishings, wanting Angelic light Thrown across my footpath, The way a house wren, flickering Through the same tree each spring, Reconstructs its nest; Or maybe I welcome Departures, the way strangers Tangled in lovemaking Somehow abandon one another's arms, Even before they cry out In passion and turn awkwardly Toward lamp-yellowed walls; And maybe this bridge, hunkered Between mud-cracked banks, Is not so indifferent; Maybe it too knows nothing But those silt-blackened limbs Swirling beneath its girders; Maybe, even now, I hold that invisible seed Of all the space My life will occupy. 32 ¦ The Missouri Review ...


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