Bridge Ghazal
My love and I reside upon the belly of a bridge
with heartbeats of the sky--the drums upon the bridge.
I've heard of songs that rise at night from
pitch-black oceans.
I've heard the strums of lyrics made by four hands on
a bridge.
My love and I do landscapes for the gardens of the
sea.
At night we sleep as seedlings at the center of its
bridge.
Once I saw a Sufi breathe in seabirds, and send them
out again.
I've seen people bearing blindfolds near the entrance
of a bridge.
My love's old love, he says, had tried to douse him in
a moat.
He grew gills to save himself and hid beneath a
drawbridge.
The masters speak of magic at the middle of the rings
where Yes and No chase each other round the props of
any bridge.
My love's new love, some say, makes far too much of
things
as fundamental, elemental, as the structure of a
bridge.
C. J. Sage's new poetry collection, Let's Not Sleep,
is forthcoming in
January 2002. Her poems have and will appear in
numerous magazines and
journals most recently including The Threepenny
Review, The Spoon River
Poetry Review, and The Seattle Review. C. J. serves
as Managing Editor
for the poetry magazine Disquieting Muses.
In Posse:
Potentially, might be ... 
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