Kathryn Miranda Hawkins
LANDING
Authorities found Friday the body of a passenger
on a sightseeing helicopter who plunged to his death
at Grand Canyon National Park in an apparent suicide.
- Associated Press
As newlyweds, we walked the edge
of the abyss, gaping openmouthed
at naked granite shards; the gash
cracked wide to the core. You trembled
breathless against me; my hands clasped
the circle of your small waist, wanting
to contain you. Together we threw
pebbles down the pit hole, listening
for the crack of landing. Centuries held us
steady on the fault line.
Later, you slipped from my grip,
crawled inside a crevice. I tried to follow,
but couldn’t fit. A barrette, a ring,
a pair of jeans - I gathered the remains,
and ground them to powder.
This anniversary, I’m airborne
above the canyon walls, scaling jaws
of hollowed ground, mounting
the face, gouged and graven.
I drop from the roaring
plane into bedrock, limestone, soil.
I am stone, blood and bone.
I will shatter, wind-blown upon the rift;
erase the ages, come to rest.
From the bottom, I will fill this earth.
Make it whole again.
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