Call for stars and atoms, abyss and rime.
Call avalanche to cover up the climbers left behind.
Let no one any longer see how cold they are.
Sweep off empty canisters and Mallory’s torso,
preserve no more misgivings. Bear these heights alone.
Mind sundown wrestling on the shoulders.
Mind the death zone—air, air, air—and go back down,
then tomorrow like shoeless sheep
leave earth behind with its examples of falling,
what’s right and what’s wrong
no more than dispersing and building clouds
on the mountain. Make yourself no elegy
but the stone snows swallow then exhume.