The Bridge

I didn’t know you well.

Didn’t even really like you--

if we’re being honest.

But here you are

ten years later.

To think--if you’d lived

I’d have forgotten you long ago.

But instead I still wonder

about the bridge that let you go

and the water that swallowed you.

If you were afraid

or changed your mind.

They say it happens.

I remember

your father’s voice on the phone,

the hollowness of it.

Gathering together

your toothbrush and alarm clock,

apples and coffee mug.

The striking banality of

things left behind.