by Marge Piercy
I read that they are going to replace
the Ambassador Bridge in Detroit.
I loved that bridge. The tunnel scared
me for I was convinced it would
collapse on our old Terraplane.
From the bridge we could see
miles of broad powerful river
joining great lakes, see Detroit
smoking away, see Windsor, demure
smaller and much cleaner.
We went during the war to buy
food not available in Detroit. Later
in life I crossed to visit old Spanish
anarchists who had a trunk full
of Emma Goldman’s letters.
They were still fighting their civil
war. I wonder, did their lives bridge
those decades till Franco’s fall
and the great change in Spain
bringing at last what they had hoped?
My own life has bridged not just
that war where my great granduncle
Sam fought but World War II and all
our myriad disasters since, and still
loud voices call for war and war and war.
Copyright © 2012 by Marge Piercy.