Clavicle

There is a young man who broke
his clavicle playing flag football.

The skin traces the healed bone
the way clouds skim the rugged edges of the Himalayas.

I follow the peaks and falls of his past injury with a finger,
try to smooth them the way god smoothed the Tibetan plateau.

I forge a path along collarbone,
find the pinnacle, and pause.

Everest. The highest point
in all of Earth’s surface.

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