upon learning that mountains are people too

at first i didn’t know how to talk to mountains

as i looked at it transluscentized by distance.

i knew that yelling would do little good—

what if his ears were on the other side?

i would put my ears towards the sunrise as well


i wanted to greet the mountain this morning

to shake his hand or kiss him on the nose

but i worried climbing up, i think, his backbone

how heavy is the shirt that he wears?


i think he yells at the moon each night.

the moon is where dead mountains go after death.

is a mountain range one or two people?

how many mountains are buried on the moon?


i told the mountain to come down from his high place.

once i found out how to speak to him.

he said he was stuck underneath himself.

he said so much depended on him he didn’t want to move

i understood that

i didn’t want to move either, because so much depended on me.