Protestors Cross the Chicago River, May 29, 2020
The bridges, some century old,
are drawn over the river tonight,
their old iron edges cutting the sky
in mirrored salute.
Normally only lifted twice a year
for yachts to summer in lakeside marinas,
they have been raised by the city
to seal off the downtown loop,
to ward off reinforcements,
to trap those inside on an island
of flame and glass.
The State Street Bridge,
licked orange,
still spans the water
next to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot,
a great white patrol boat lurking underneath.
Hope dons masks and goggles,
climbs atop cars and railings,
links arms amid the sugar gas
hanging in the corridor of steel,
walks into a sea of batons and blue domes.
