I lose my words
in the shadow of peaks
that stretch pass the periphery
and wrinkle into the sky.
What I meant to say was:
gravity acts differently here.
I feel it anchor in my bones,
even as my mind struggles to
crash through my skull
and spill into sacred spaces.
Now we've identified the trepid tongue,
that trips over good intentions,
I see it falling into truths that
scatter when disturbed,
even while you fumble after them.