Clay’s Ferry Bridge
Cool air rises from the Palisades,
meets the humidity above,
and the effect is a shimmer of heat
by the interstate: a filter by which
I argue with ghosts. Boxed in, I say
hush, now, and outside,
the world grows wild without me:
11 thoughts on "Clay’s Ferry Bridge"
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The contrasts in this poem are remarkable.
The reader sits with you, boxed in,
while outside the world grows wild
without you. Heartbreaking.
Love: “…a filter by which/I argue with ghosts.” and
“…outside,/the world grows wild without me:
It make me feel safer than that outside world.
Thank you for sharing.
❤️
Love this, Shaun. Such a pleasure to read your writing this month. Looking for a book from you soon.
I think you are a great talent.
love the view from that brige.
This is lovely! It made me think of feeling boxed in with the heat and humidity of the summers here. Take good care – it was great to read your words this year, as always.
What a gorgeous way to end the month. It has been such a joy to read your poems. Loke others have said, I hope to see a book from you soon. See you next June!
Oh! What a wonderful take on a phenomenon I’ve noticed many times but never thought to write a poem about. Thanks for all your gorgeous work this month.
Stunning. I’m going back and reading more of you!
“The world grows wild without me” is stunning. Atmospheric, haunting, and beautifully written. 💙