“But if it had to perish twice,” Robert Frost
base camp
and mere bodies
camaraderie
eternal youth
of reach
life & death
will kiss the face
hard to hold
your granite cold
finger ledge
your crystalline
thoughts
your subterranean
face – rising
eight legged
exoskeleton drift
across
fear-of-falling
finger-legs
reach and hold
your chipped face
smear
the expansive sky
rising above
valley below
the bird’s eye view
set upon
a knife’s edge
cracked hearts
covered in chalk
and tape
bleeding boxes
sacrificed
on the stone-face
monolith
