Bridge

In the middle
of the snow covered
and empty lake-bed--
drained in the winter
for the spring
overflow--
there's an old
support;foundation
for a bridge
that no longer exists
much like the one
that was burned
between us.
I see it in the winter
exposed, and protruding
out, a reminder
of what once was.
In the summer
I forget, it gets burried
under so much water
it becomes invisible
much like I tried
to make you.
The day I burned our
bridge.