The Mountains

The flatlands are our home: the fecund plains
with skies untouched by angularity,
roads rulered on a checkerboard of grains,
and rivers sauntering towards the sea.
What is it, then, that urges us to go
where bear-tooth summits tear a salmon sky,
where soil is stone, and cataracts don’t know
that water’s meant to flow but not to fly?

The mountains are the earth despising earth:
in one great striving, all of nature seeks
to leap above itself: even the trees
renounce round crowns for heaven-pointed peaks.
And we perceive our more-than-mortal worth,
ascending Rockies, Alps, or Pyrenees.

Mark Amorose

Mark Amorose teaches poetry and humane letters at Tempe Preparatory Academy, in Tempe, Arizona, and resides with his wife, Maria, and their seven children in the neighboring city of Mesa. His poems have most recently appeared in Measure, The Lyric, and Dappled Things.

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The Agony

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Hamlet, reviewed