Rock Climber

I’m slipping
Scrabbling for purchase
I want to climb
To reach your outstretched hand
The toeholds are small
The fingerholds smaller
I jam my fingers in the cracks
Moss falls away
Pebbles and rock slip beneath me
Clattering to the valley floor
I don’t want to look down
But I do
There are bones scattered and splintered
Dried from the desert sun
Scraped by teeth and beaks
Relentless scavengers
Maybe I let myself fall
Might be easier for everyone
Don’t cry for me dear one
For a few brief moments
I actually flew

tara caribou | ©2020

Read this and more in my poetry book, Four.