Crossing
It’s two strangers
crossing a bridge
in opposite directions
over a dried-up river.
And the sun beats down
on the back of one
and in the face of the other
and as they pass
they are holders
of the moment.
One stretches
out her hand,
the other takes it.
They clasp each other
like loving friends,
these two women
crossing a bridge
over a polluted river
where fish bred once.
And each goes
on her own way home.
One sings. One is silent.