Hot Metal Bridge

Current Issue : Number Twenty-Five

Valentine’s Day


A tumble-pot launching its geraniums across the lawn
is how I injured my foot.
What was I grieving or angry about and from which room
had I just left to answer the door?
You were eating something but it wasn’t the kitchen.
I said I’ll get it and tripped on the lintel.
Someone charming had left the flowers
as the only evidence of their charm.
Overhead a helicopter
threatened clouds.

Alec Hershman lives in St. Louis where he teaches at St. Louis Community College and at the Center for Humanities at Washington University. Other poems of his can be found in recent issues of Phoebe, Juked, Harpur Palate, Sixth Finch, Salamander, CutBank, Washington Square, The Sugar House Review, and The Fiddleback. He currently serves as poetry editor for The White Whale Review.