Grace Peak

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Grace Peak

Down where fingers
hold a wind
scourged turbulence,
lurid and buried
in the fractures,

your mountain grace
blisters like iron smelted,

and the mosaic of your
eyes light all over.
Wrapped in cold teardrops,
below the grit of exiled scents,

at your peak I feel astronomical,

like Asimov’s balloons rising
through a diaphanous fog.

George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, the Angle at St. John Fisher College, and 3:16 Journal. George’s blogs, essays and letters have appeared in the USA Today, Wall Street Journal, the Atlantic, the Havana Times, the South China Morning Post, the Buffalo News, and more. 

See all his poems on Tea House here.

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