for Dawn Potter
.
I did try, in the white out, the white out
of anger among women
when we started stumbling in the storm
and couldn’t see one another
.
To not lose track of the One I’ve been putting together
with old clay from failed adobe bricks, and frayed
but holding twine
rigging her to be unassailable in winter
.
Even as I tried to keep my hand on my sister
Even as I clung to the rope that could bind us
.
But we were lost.
I at least, felt left there
like the climber gone blind
when the vessels of his eyes ruptured
whose friends labored him down Everest
only having to go on
before they themselves
froze.
.
He perhaps understood
what had come to pass, forgiving them
as he slipped away
.
Yet when we cast someone out
how should she not
throw herself down
in anguish;
this should be our concern
.
I have confessed
the sin of degradation
as I was degraded, owned
my part in the erosion
of good will; now
..
I hope never to head
even to the near peaks again
without a beacon
pitons, nylon rope coiled
for a long climb
matches and punk to start a fire
.
A book to write a farewell in
if I should freeze alive
on the sheer cliff
that rage becomes
.
Overkill to be sure
but when someone knifed my rope
and I cartwheeled away
and then was banned
from the vale out of the wind
I nearly bled
from my own eyes.
.
When I was in the cave
of my malaise
I didn’t care whose heart I scored
to hemorrhage vinegar
.
Just as we cannot recover love’s body
until a thaw
There was such frost over the meanings
of affiliation
everything blackened
.
Even so, I would share what I have
with an enemy
marooned
as I am, someone
who in opening her mouth
strands herself
and then begins to fall.
,
copyright Jenne’ R. Andrews 2011 All Rights Reserved
I’m honored.
A heart-felt thank you to you, Dawn. Baci, Jenne’
Quite a heartfelt homage…
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