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