Isolated near the sea, the bridge
Engages them, and all along its struts,
They settle overnight, shoulder to shoulder.
At dawn, they rise from points like filings flung
Against some scrim of fabric in the sky
And drawn by unseen magnets into shapes.
The birds shake out the shadows of their wings
And darken all the edges of the bridge
Like manic artists who’d correct its form.
We hear their cries above the traffic’s din
And fear that hidden in their minds’ dark color
We might detect some permanent disorder.