Photography © Edward S. Gault


View From A Bridge

It was easy for my father
To say it was only a dream.
He wasn’t there
To see Jeremy’s face,
Bobbing in the water
As it flowed down the river
Looking up at me
As I stared down from the bridge
Unable for some reason
To make a move
Either to leave or to save him.
But it was too late to save him.
All I could do was to watch
As his face slowly drifted
Down the river still looking up at me
With those dead but trusting eyes
Asking me “Why?”
I simply stared
Into my cereal, toast, and juice-
Feeling sick.


Edward S. Gault is a poet and fine arts photographer living in Brighton, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in Oddball Magazine, Spectrum, Wilderness House Literary Review, Interlude, Currents, and Encore.