This will not be the last bridge we cross.

He’s at that age, the chiseled ridges

of a man, still a child in the face.

 

We walk uphill as concrete and cable beam

hold us for now.  Gales and earthquake,

won’t break a sturdy build, but this?

 

Up here nothing hedges us from wind.

Below is the slow coast of vessels:

a fishboat, a rusty barge.

 

Land and sea blur into blue-green, my eyes

turn high tide wet, a pressed kerchief

still tucked in my pocket.

 

Comment by the judge: This was difficult. I was struck by the simple human story of the winner, placed at what has now become an iconic part of Charleston. Lots of these seem to think the more stereotypes I throw in the poem the more Charleston it is. I think it was partly because of that that I loved the wicked wit in the "six facts" poem, and I also love that it was dedicated to Jim Lundy!

 

Honorable mention: Phillip Slusher