Climbing Fear

The rocky grit

bites my hand,

I cup my hand

in a sandstone crack

and it’s wedged.

Expensive metal hangs

from between my teeth

I grab the cam

push it in

the lobes curl

and conform to

the fractured space.

I clip the rope

in the cam’s end,

slip my free hand in.

A foot pops out,

heaves through the air

in search of purchase

a hundred feet below,

I shove my foot in again

re-wedge and take a breath.

Down the long vertical wall

the rope tethers at points

like stitches in a wound.

The wind picks up,

chills the sweat on my back,

the carabiners, cams, and metal

chime and sway with each motion,

my skin cracks,

blood, red like the rock,

beads on the surface.

Liquid tension,

rope tension,

physics is my friend,

until I place my protection wrong—

the rock might burst away,

debris sputters out like misty gore,

silver light glints off air born gear,

my insides rise to my chest,

my head blanks,

the red wall shrinks away,

the crack a distant seam,

a far away friend who betrayed me,

the rope wriggles like a snake

caught in free fall suspension,

snaps taut,

the great menace gravity

grabs the rope with unseen hands

and rips each cam out

like a surgeon’s rushed sutures—

I pull back to reality,

I’m still here,

hands and feet wedged,

in golden-red stone that swirls

petrified motion captured forever

I find a deep hand hold past the overhang,

pull over the awkward roof,

get on top and sigh,

breathe hot breaths

reflected off the rock

Red Rocks Valley expands below,

drops down to Las Vegas

a dreary gray splash

between smoggy spheres.

5.6 my ass.