A Poem About Going Climbing (and Falling in Love with You) by Skye Wilson

It’s been a long time. My teeth tug
at the loose skin of my cracking lips.
I strap in to ascend and fall, with visions
of my scab-strong body tumbling, tighten
my harness to uncomfortable.

You set up the belay,
check every aspect of my knots
before you smile me up the wall,
where I pant too hard for this slow climb.
Soon, I reach a gap too big to stretch.
No choice but to leap

and plummet, heavy for a moment with dread
and chalky fingers, which lunge, shred open
on the rock with scraping pain.
As you catch the rope that holds me,
I look down to the cracked baskets
of your strong hands, and, half-willingly,
I descend to you.

Skye Wilson is a glittery, rugby-playing feminist from Scotland. She is working towards an MSc in Creative Writing at Edinburgh University. She is forthcoming in Detritus and From Arthur’s Seat. Skye is extremely bisexual and loves ugly shirts, and poems about fear, hope, and belonging. Her pronouns are she/her.
Instagram: @skyegabrielle; Twitter: @skyegabriell. 

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