continue up cliff sides who can pierce
flesh by air alone and I feel so
heavy and tired I will rest a little while
and
cross an essshaped river spine once
water melts into the valley from ice currents
fast enough to flow uphill, probably
and
balance myself steady on a real sandstone pin-
head where my voice calls all across an
invisible lake without a name thank goodness
and
and
and

each time, plates slip into place
again, shifted so slightly ptah
strains to see any difference at all

a chill breathy mouth and a stone
saints in wood some with sticky eyes
jeweled jamb missing several emeralds
plain except a hewn nail holds up its list
composite resin shaped to show a grain
iron-plated against her battering ram
a knob that whines when we turn 
it

of course the echos reach me, even here,
but what about my granddaughter?
a lock of hair taped to a clock?
disappointment shaped like a bridge?
my own ten fingers and toes?
I think I know I can go back there,
and I will soon, very
next
thing,
just first I have to