Kim Malinowski

The Grand Canyon

I want to take his hand—lead him for once
into unexplored terrain.
Climb uphill while he desperately follows,
not needing to see the sunrise,
needing only to see me
needing the sunrise.

I want him to clumsily clasp my hand,
callous to callous,
palms sweaty,
the canyon feeling as ancient as starlight.

We will stand under the starriest sky
we’ve ever seen
together.
I will feel the weight of his frame behind me.

I cannot say if we topple,
but I will walk to the rim’s edge,
farther than wisdom,
and he will scream over the chorus of grit
patterns of dreams,
and he will yank me back.
Do I want to go back?

I want to be part of this canyon.
Yearning hurts too much.
I could be part of history’s erosion.
Part of the unmapped stratigraphy.

I want this man to breathe me in like I
inhale the ancient breeze.
He already knows my history,
and what the lines on my palm foretell,
even if he doesn’t believe it.

Kim Malinowski is the author of "Home," "Phantom Reflection," and "Buffy's House of Mirrors." She has two forthcoming books. She was nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, and the Rhysling Award. She writes because the alternative is unthinkable.