Untitled from a Mountain

Take me on a mountain top,

brown cascades and rusty dirt lodged

beneath our skin, sequestered

under nails, dried tumbleweed

scratched along my back – red white

welts in swirled, tangled streams.

Take me on a mountain top,

with heaven watching down ahead

a constant judgement brokered

only by the stars and eagles

soaring overhead – desert air

100 miles over sea, a fall of dust  

dried against my forehead.

Take me on a mountain top.

Take me fast or slow, long or soft,

just make it on a mountain top,

one with bears and antelope

fracture our restraints with chains

and cleave the earth in two,

smoky ground and dampened musk.

Two bodies merge like beasts.