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.