CRY FOR THE MOUNTAINTOP

Morning, concrete.
The asphalt eyes troughing tear dream streets
By your windows--don’t crack,
Don’t slumber, don’t shudder sweet gorgeous.

I get crying
When spiders nudge the stars over silver falls,
When you funnel your tongue into my throat--
Sweet gorgeous, I am not your voice,
Sweet gorgeous, you are the cold dawn water
That soaks my chest and gives me birth.

In your white clay,
You are unsunder-sullied, you are childless,
Barren of shame, sweet gorgeous, but you
Crumble beneath accordion shadows,
The fumbling stairways slattering nightly upwards.

Get to crying, sweet gorgeous,
Ain’t no mountaintop that didn’t take crying to get to.
I walk beside you, cry too if I got to.
But cry for weepy feet, cry for weary suns--
Don’t cry for shadows, don’t cry
For the pale illusion of a cloud.