The Dog Star
Climbing a glass mountain lit from within
by the Dog Star still over the horizon
a faint yet distinct blue-white glow
the rest of us haven’t yet seen
well enough to reflect allows the mountain
to show us imaginary hand- and foot-holds
We’re high enough the ground is lost below
each step feels like starting over
Starting over is forgetting what came before
as if it added nothing to the next step
‘It’s a practice mountain,’ someone says;
likely, if we had time to think of it
The mountain works with us
we have not fallen except as forgetting
falling would be loss; forgetting is a kind of
personal storage unknown as the mountain is
without its reflected inner light
Sometimes it seems it is this inner mountain
we’re climbing, a black-light reflection
that knows the outer one just before we do
before each reach and step, each stretch and pull
hauling our heavy ass where it wouldn’t go
on its own, the weight of generations
preferring the ground We’re lighter as we climb
and maybe younger your hair is green,
your hands like claws
you’ve grown great leathery wings
We no longer fear falling
a few feet up is far enough
as the directionless mountain
does not let go of us
You say I’ve grown a long dog-face
with heavy pouched eyes
that would be sad or wise if human
The Dog Star 
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