Your face was blue the first time
matched the high rung of sunset
And I hadn’t heard sharp words
spoken so softly ’til you.
The crest of a mountain in
my hands like they were weighty
Like maybe I could press down
on the day to hold it still.
Imagine what we might hear
if your lips stopped moving, if
We stopped climbing the mountain-
if we just listened to it.
Let your sharp words disappear,
swallowed up by the river.
Stand with me at the edge.