CANYON
the first step out past "stepping out"
grace of a grand staircase,
but iron rungs at each foot,
at each hand,
the crumble and the crack
each point the first of a
thousand moments
the first thoughts of turning back
faced with the madness, the race,
but with each root, stone
at each turn,
the stem and the track
all parts a piece of a
single moment
the first sign of weakness
blessed with the pain in its trace
but, sounded through the body
at each pace,
the crick, neck and back
each moment the first of
all eternity
the first plateau
spaced apart, the distant face
but, somehow closer
with a blink,
a breath and a twitch
all moments a blend of
each eternity
the first web of pathways
destined to a lost case
but, distance like destiny
of all days,
the speck, the speck and
each great neck of the gods reaching
to the beginning
the first bout of anger
and almost the last tear
but, then again, surging
by each miner's spring
darkness hides, free subsides
beginning the ascent
beginning the ascent to the end
the first switch, back to
downward spiral, so it seems
but all illusion, the heat
on my head,
the tremble and the dread
to desire both beginning
and end
the first face I see above,
kissing from man-made earth
but, wanting the first step,
at each hand,
the crumble and the crack,
each point the first of a
thousand moments
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Christine Dutton is originally from Rochester, NY and now resides in Northampton, Massachusetts, the home of Smith College. She began writing poetry in 1999 and her work has been published with Kota Press, Aileron, Deep Cleveland, Poems for Peace, Survival & Beyond, and Identity Theory.