Clint Smith
When Hiding in the Mountains Isn’t Enough
I have tried to bury your
syllables somewhere in these
mountains. Blindfolded myself
so that I would never know where
you lay. Rendered your name more
grenade than seed. Thought this soil
& granite would suffocate the explosion
beneath my feet. But you are still the vibrations
I feel with every step. White noise under the earth.
Constant.
Until I forget that you are even there.