literally : through my fault
it was –
first degree fuck-up.
Just after dawn
shredded wheat rock and tungsten ice
turned amiable snow
constant fear costume swaps for almost done.
We can take the rope off now
fingers already figuring summit shutter click swindle attention …
the gear rack …
freefalls 400 hard gained metres
a quickstep abseil exit now impossible
or steep ridge descent.
Only one thing for it,
rest of day snow trudge over adjacent peak
and moonlighting glacier plod.
I brace for jet stream abuse.
“I’m not going to say anything,
you know what you’ve done.”