Cliff Jumping

The way up is the tricky part.

The way up kills.

It is easy to fall forty feet into water of uncertain depth.

It is easy to let the wind take your breath

until — quickly! — the cold surface stings your knees.

It is as easy to sink and disappear

as it is to strip and strut and tease in the heat of August.

But it’s harrowing to climb loose rocks,

to sidle through trees that lean precariously and poke.

It’s hard to bet your skull on a long-gone traveler’s rope.

The way up is the tricky part.

The way up kills.

The cops shut it down til the waters have calmed

and the blood turns brown.

Then the kids come back for more.