DRY CRIK Journal

It was important once
to climb the peak –
avoid looking down
and imagining the mess
after the fall.

My name is in the book
with many others:
the pregnant girl
I held in thin air,
in the chimney

near the top – we know
she had no business there,
no reason other
than keeping-up with him.
It was important then.

We were close
for an instant
above Rae Lakes,
mules and horses
grazing between them,

gripped intensely
by the next step down.
Her name and face are lost,
but not my promise
to stay off peaks.