Fort drum, black river dam

On the old bridge
On the old dam
A sinuous way to the top
Pushing upward legs
Pushing downward arms
Finding Olympian rings of Iron
Thick enough around for the strength of the palms of a man
Their centers could not hold
But these wheels remain affixed on shafts as ornaments
Like tarnished golden hoops hanging from the dams head,
addressing some feminine convention
some maturing expectation
fenced away from the men at the fort
the dam has become a woman as it has aged
Something you rise upon and stride atop of
Looking for origins
Looking for a birth
Looking for the charm of its structure
Looking for a way inside
Water rushing beside
And undercutting the banks
A woman grown tired beside the disinterests of the soldiers
Waiting in the shadows beside the occupation
Dignified in her decay with bright hardening eyes
When we found her, she was something illuminating
next to the lusterless opacity of the fort
-Apesblood