Beneath the Weight

Dark girders stretch, rust crawling like skin,

and water drips, steady and slow.

Echoes fold into hollow spaces,

quiet as a half-forgotten secret.

Shadows gather in flaking paint,

and the damp air tastes of cold metal,

distant traffic hums, a restless pulse,

beating through the bones of the city.

I stand beneath this heavy breath,

the weight of steel pressing down,

watching water collect, drip, and fall,

carving time into silence below.

The night folds over rusted ribs,

and the bridge holds its heavy breath,

a shadow trapped beneath its weight,

and I am part of the cold beneath.