Katrina Kaye

I can see the
currents change,
moving fast,
cutting through.

I stare at the
reflection of the water
on the belly
of my bridge,
water and light
dancing together.

I hide here,
skin sulked blue,
lodged beside stone wall
and spare tire.

Broken and static,
I freeze in brown water,
and allow the gentle pull
on my still body
to take me under.

“Jane Doe Found under the 4th street Bridge” is previously published in September (2014) and one other place that I can’t remember. It’s an old poem.