The Footbridge
by Larry D. Thomas


Dented from the peg legs
of dead lobstermen,
it spans the cove,

creaking in the sun
like a taut,
fraying lifeline.

Daily, at high noon,
leaning over its rails,
two widows gaze

into the blackish-
green wavelets
dappling the seabed

with shadows
where soft stars
breathe and crawl.






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