The flat cool light of October when desperate shadows feared of winter’s grip waver pallidly and slink into corners. I lag behind as she strides ahead over the Millennium Bridge towards the Tate Modern Museum to meet friends. Crouched at the foot of the tawny brick tower of the former power station is Louise Bourgeois’ 30-foot tall spider called “Maman”: a riveting ribbed bronze sculpture with marble eggs in stainless steel meshed sac. The sluggish tidal river below teems with traffic, pleasure craft, tourists agog – camera shutter constant winking – barges laden with stone and coal, from upstream a whoop-whoop of River Police seeking violators. Southwark sprawls ahead, the borough of red-light sin, the haunt of the Bard, his ever present ghost seeks next hit play. Desperate poverty starved of attention. The City wealth glitters in spun webs of commerce on the near shore. It draws back fastidiously from the stink of unwashed masses.
exposed noisome muck
wormed pilings herring gulls perch
discarded lunch feast
For d’Verse this Halloween the prompt bridge is to write about a bridge as a first person.
I also wrote a free verse poem about a bridge for the Daily Post prompt called “I strain daily to reach You” two days ago.