Sometimes, I write poems

Sometimes, I write poems. Not with any regularity. But every once in a while, I write poems.

They are written over the span of years, words added and subtracted like glaciers forming and calving. Sometimes, I go looking for their half-developed stanzas, sifting through documents and post-it notes. Other times, like tonight, I find one purely by accident while on the hunt for some other distant .doc.

My best guess is that this poem was started in 2010 or 2011. I finished it last night.

 

The Descent

We sprinted up mountains with hands pressed together like hips or

lips whistling for water. We went down running, rushing, every

step toe-stubbing, gasping for air.

                                                                        I really do forget the

frantic laugh of his kiss at the top and the weight

of that word in my mouth as it stumbled from

throat to tongue to teeth to out.

                                                             But what

of the hands held fast one–two? I do

recall the press & final release.

That I’ll keep. I’ll take too

the feeling, madcap &

reeling, of love as

it’s flying – Oh!

as it’s falling

down

hill.

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