New draft poem / by Jocelyn Page

I've been researching, reading and, of course, climbing. The student in me feels I should wait to finish this sort of literature review before I begin attending to creative work. (I am currently reading Helen Mort's most recent collection No Map Could Show Them, based on climbing/mountaineering; more on that in a future post.) But then I saw 'Slimfast' setting a route at the auto-belay area and the seed of a poem was sewn. 

This is a draft only; it needs more work, but I'm happy to put it here and let it settle.

The Route Setter

 

I’ve seen the look in libraries.

I know, too, the the nervy wait

within me when faced with a big

nothing on the empty page.

 

He has that look now, staring

at the pocked wall, stripped

of holds, holes where screws

had once held them fast.

 

He steps onto the cherry picker,

flicks the switch that lifts

him toward the ceiling, in fits

and starts, rising above it all.

 

This slab is his blank page; his poetry.

He works alone, occasionally gazes

out the window to the industrial park

and the line of sky, parked cars.

 

What enters his route setting:

the smell of coffee from the roaster

a unit away; the taste of chalk;

our shrieks when we lose our grip?

 

He holds the drill at his hip; a gun-slinger

for the day. He chooses a colour

for a line and plots the moves we will try

next week. We are his characters

 

and he decides today how we’ll later toil;

how we’ll ascend toward the rafters,

feeling strong and smart; how we’ll fall

little enough to want to try again.