Bridges Poem by Tamarie Rocke

YOU MIGHT CALL THEM SOME KIND OF GATEWAY INTO ANOTHER REALM.
OR A GREAT PASS OVER THE FLOWING PARTITION
THAT IS OUR MURKY WATERWAY
AND PROBABLY SO BECAUSE IT IS THESE THINGS,
TO THE NAKED AND UNTRAINED EYE
AS DECEITFUL AS THOSE NASTY POLITICIANS THAT LIE
AND THE REDUNDANCE IS NO JEST;
BECAUSE ONCE ABRESS THE FORGED METAL AND CONCRETE
THERE IS OBVIOUS CHANGE AFOOT-
SOMEHOW MORE TRAFFIC IN THE LANE COMING THAN GOING
AND A FEW MORE SIGNS THAT ARE TELLING
MORE CRACKS IN THE ROAD COULD BE ONE OF THEM
MORE CRACKHEADS ON ROADSIDE COULD BE ANOTHER.
THOSE MEN WHO PLANNED THIS CITY
MUST HAVE BEEN UNADULTERATED GENIUSES IF YOU ASK ME.
THREE VISUAL MONUMENTS OF WHY WE’RE STILL
NOT FREE.
FROM NORTH TO SOUTH YOU CROSS THE BRIDGE
AND IT GETS WORSE THE DEEPER YOU GO
CAUSE WHEN YOU LABEL THINGS ‘SOUTH’ THEN PEOPLE WILL KNOW
THAT THE LAND IS NOT PRIME,
THAT LEVEL OF CRIME IS HIGH
WHY AT TIMES THERE MAY BE DARK FIGURES
LYING ON THE GROUND
OR MAYBE IT’S THE OTHER WAY AROUND
MAYBE WE CAME FIRST AND JUST KINDA
DEVELOPED THAT SOUTHERN MENTALITY.
WE LIVE WHAT WE LEARN AND PLAY THE CARDS WE
HAVE BEEN DEALT BY SOCIETY.
MAYBE IT’S BECAUSE I’M ON THE “SOUTH” END OF THIS DEAL
I’M REALIZING IN MY AGE THAT THIS REALITY JUST SIMPLY
SHOULDN’T BE REAL.
BECAUSE MY SOUTHSIDE IS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT BRIDGE,
AND MY DARKSIDE WISHES THERE WERE NO BRIDGES AT ALL.