top of page
Kyle Vaughn
June, Huron Peak
Scaled to reach thin air to be
lighter than my loss. Found
just another sun-facing grief,
remnants of snowpack, some lichen
and sedges and mostly stones.
Even far from desire, I couldn’t
fall deaf to music’s golden work,
how your laugh rose so pure.
Even above the treeline, still
I would climb. And yet
there is that bird up there,
even higher. Whatever he lost
must be all the sky.

Anchor 1
bottom of page