This one is for Matt Fustah. Not much here for anyone looking for something superb.

Resting on the Side of a Mountain

Steep snow-laden side of this small Alaskan mount;
I sit on an icy rock, flat
like my ass but harder,
to breathe a moment
and scope out the valley to my left
down past a drop-off I know is there but can’t see.

Rest my ski poles over my lap—
they’re better legs than mine
for climbing mountains layered
with a fresh bed of snow from last night’s precipitation.

Farther down the slope, hinged on the backdrop of a quiet city,
my friend is climbing up to me. His poles won’t stab like mine
and the heavy pack keeps driving him
down into the snow like a bully.

It’s the only pack between us.

Smell of sweat dripping from my plastered hair
as wind blows cold under my hat.
I call down to him, ask if he wants to hand off the pack.
I think myself kind.

He quietly thrusts his pike into the mountain—
A flee bites Goliath.
So I don’t push for it.
I’m not used to the altitude anyway.

I swallow to drain off a lingering taste of home.
Rising, I turn my back on the city far below
and look up toward grey clouds
gathering near the summit.

~ by adamburdeshaw on September 17, 2008.