Binoculars Poem by eddie kilowatt

there are still
foundations of trusses
decaying and weathered.
the mangled skeleton
of a steel framework familiar,
twisting downward,
laying alongside a
river running restless.
trees and moss have taken root
encircling the rust
that used to link two islands.

is it still a bridge
when all you can see
is the gorge between?
I’ve been looking across this ravine
for centuries standing still
and all I can see
is myself on the other side.