Published September 1, 2021
by Vivian Elizabeth
(San Francisco, California, USA)
Beneath, where you found me first
Linked by metal and concrete and rocks
Our foundation became our passage
Climbing mountains in snow and in sun
Now, bridges emerge from clouds,
From cold air. From hot air.
There is nothing tangible there.
Though not to my eyes
It settles my heart to know
They still stand; they still connect our spots of land
They are held in place by pillars
Unmovable, though we move within them
In morning Sunday sun's reflection
In shelter, as water softens a jagged skyline
As leaves colour the floor
and as we thaw.
Biography
Vivian Elizabeth is a British-born poet currently residing in California. Her work is a commentary on relationships between people, people, and the earth that houses them. She takes inspiration from the many cities and cultures that her life has taken her to over the years. When not writing, or doing her day-job, Vivian enjoys exploring the stunning landscapes of the Bay Area on her bike.
Previously published in San Francisco Poetry Magazine:
"Pages Filled" by Justin Azar
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