The Bridge of Dire Necessity
Moist jungle's steaming breath assaults my face
Molasses air I struggle to inhale
Your ruddy visage slowly drains to pale
Sharp cliff, black knife wound in the verdant space
Decrepit footbrige held up by mere grace
Each rope suspended taut by one sole nail
No time for turning back, it's move or fail
Their fever burns, thin lives that wane apace
We're down to you or me; I see I've lost
Your pallid tremors, so I walk on high
Death matters not, as all will share the cost
Without the cure, those that I love will die
Wood creaks as ropes strain, hands sweat, mind of frost
Firm terra I touch, sweet success is mine
7/25/16
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