john and david on the mountain

the red dust
was caked and ancient,

while
clinging
the sheer face was filled,
the red dust
and

the tether lines cast like fish
a dented pond-
the garbling river that should
have eroded

the high walls
but instead, the arroyo cracked the
red dust
beneath-

and oh brave john-
the apostle's mount, a breath of fresh
nitrogen into his

waiting mouth, john likened to
a shirtsleeve,
his eye clinging, they were blue
and the bridge
was unsteady

john; very much afraid
while david crackled forward-
the red
dust caking his black
hair

then above the sheer face they came towards the two
figures unseen for as much time could have forgotten-
and beneath them lay the mining
eyes of the mountain-
and one would

lead downwards but wise john said not to
trust the black clay under
the figured eyes-

so thru' the red scoped man, eyes clear and red
john and david descended on fish tether
downwards,
the sheer face.

and beneath their hands
the red dust faltered
wide-eyed john,
staring the wounded
canyon,
his mouth opened-

they faltered