Hot Metal Bridge

Current Issue : Number Twenty-Five



There’s this white twine smell. Wine settled
into pools on each step. The reflected ceiling
keeps on dipping from the moisture.
They won’t replace the soot-stained toilet.
When I was ten we ran out in the rain,
covering the sewer grates with rocks,
trying to make this little town float away.
The comet settled in the sky above the hospital
(plucking the string noislessly with my finger)
for three buoyant nights.
We turned ‘perihelion’ into a verb,
did the little Icarus trick,
found everyone to be made of the stuff.


Ryan Sanford Smith is a recent graduate of the University of Notre Dame’s MFA program. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in JMWW, Nashville Review, Ozone Park Journal, The Pedestal Magazine, Mannequin Envy, and Merge Poetry.