Mountain I

David Krausman

He writes

“mountain”

upside down

on his back.

“When I die,”

he jokes,

“bury me like

this.” He agrees.

The earth agrees.

He presses arms

and chest flat

against ground

where the mountain

would be. He feels

the purities of the

earth evaluating

his pressure potential.

Feet out, heels up

fourty-five degree

angles, he feels

dirt wedge into

his toes. “When I die,

bury me like this.”