
Kate Buckley
Bluebridge Lane
Everyone thought the old bridge went nowhere.
No one thought to question the girl
or her brothers – where they were going
or when they’d be home. They made their way
up the old farm road – cement crenellated
and cracked with wildflowers in its teeth.
The bridge went rose-colored in the dawning,
ivy-leaved at twilight but most times
looked blue. It seemed to stretch for miles.
It seemed they would never reach it.
Sometimes a toad would block their path, blink,
and croak out something – they argued what.
The elder brother claimed a curse. The younger,
blessing. The girl held out for a warning.
Kate Buckley is pursuing an MFA in poetry at Spalding University. Winner of the James
Hearst Poetry Prize from the North American Review in 2008, she's the author of A Wild
Region (Moon Tide Press, 2008); Follow Me Down is forthcoming from Tebot Bach. Recent
poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Bellingham Review, Shenandoah, Slipstream, and
North American Review. A ninth-generation Kentuckian, she now lives in Laguna Beach,
California. Check out her website.
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