The shadow of a full purple
Mountain casts miles of cool
That makes us alive as we pass through
On the slow rise of the ski lift.
You are in a black turtleneck
And tam o’ shanter hat
Like you are ready to break
Into a lost dance, or lead an uprising.
There is a maddening departure
That the lift can’t meet, like trying to pack
For a war in another country.
I pull at the socks that have dropped
Into my boot. You smile and say that war
Takes time, as a mountain builds
A slow patience for terror. Fuck, this lift
Is slow and there is a finger of smoke
Snaking out of the city below
In a thin wick, the tick
tick tick of some beginning
Or ending. Your hand is cold
And holds mine like a shadow,
Holds the last of the snow, and we break
Over the trees into a sudden warmth
Above the soft revolution taking the city.
Aaron Kellerstrass’ poems have appeared in The Pinch, The Spoon River Poetry Review, The Portland Review, and Silkworm. Aaron holds an MFA in poetry from Arizona State University and is currently roaming the Irish countryside after quitting his teaching job.