On Toppins Bridge

In my time I’ve counted
Every clink-clank creaking joint
Linking the bony steel arms
Of old Toppins Bridge

I’ve locked to memory
Each rusty, pimpled imperfection
On the perfectly pocked face
Of old Toppins Bridge

But leaving Toppins Bridge
For the last time I realize
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen
The shiny, unspoiled belly of old Toppins Bridge

By Michael Francis Murphy