I

the herringbone soles
of his dunlops shear free
and our leader is upended

he falls hard and fast
like a slapdown mullet
cracking his shoulder awry

twin blue pools of pain stare out
from a remote scarpland
as i try to pop it back

three dimly lit diminutive figures, a beatific
band of stainedglass shards far-flung above
our tolkienesque goldshimmering gorgescape

II

you’re hurt, shall we turn back?
diaphanous hazelbrows of concern
entangled with her wildfire red hair

with its front claws outstretched
a fierish spiny yabby reverse glides
through the clearrush crystal waters

past my irresolute blackbootied foot
and wethead hung blackgreen ferns
lean in to catch my steaming breath

i’ll be right
we help hoist his backpack
of rope, carabiners and figure 8s

III

enraptured by the beckoning thrill
we drown deeper into the dark throat
of rocks roaring with foamy anticipation

carabiner locked and on-rope my feet bounce
down the vertical walls of an olympicpool sized
slab of rock under pelts of helmethammering water

off-rope!
my thin voice snaking up
and receiving a tug in reply

on her way down
she swings loose and the
rock anvil thuds against her spine

IV

two strikes against, with the darkness settling in
gratitude for my head torch and no way out
but to plunge ahead in the gathering gloom

dusk deported we reach our “lunchtime” spot
darkmoss trunks wedged like broken bones
as with meditative sandwiches we replay

the mindflood orgasmic rushes of adrenalin
when dizzy edges promote the beautiful
into the sacred and the sublime

compelling and seducing our mortality
with just one slip and you’re gone
edmund burke type sublimity

V

flutterkicking the funk away we
coldswim the stygian blackness
of overhanging rock cathedrals

black slipperiness in the mooncones
of our head beams, one slow-fading
we tread with mechanical feet to

climb out at last and with prodigious skill
our leader closetracks the vertiginous route
punctuated by profanity with skewiffing shoulder

a byronic storm splits the gothic darkness above;
treeroot hoisting up the treacherous slippery walls
i prop him, his arm dangling like a broken bustard wing

VI

we crest under soft plopping skies then
descend again until we are soft treading
the vulvic edges of another canyon stream

faerie fantastical festoons of
touch-the-sky blue dotted worms
serene and comforting light the way

a chill moon watches as we
arrive 2am at the raindropped car
a full seventeen hours after we started

i give gratitude to my stalwart headtorch
then stab the phone screen, its okay we’re safe
but know death has tipped our cheeks today