Member-only story
Mountain
Apr 13, 2026
It’s National Poetry Month, so….time for a tiny poem:
Glass slick-smooth beneath my hands,
I bite into the mountain to hold my grip,
feel glass shatter my tongue. No
spell-shoed horse for this princess. I
walked through old bones to reach this place.
I will swallow every splinter.
Originally published in Through the Gate, August 2013
