Every Other

Like knives,
they come up like knives,
and make you wonder
if it’s worth it,
every other up
every other down
and every reached-for hunger,
every spire,
every pinnacle —
it isn’t the valley
that kills you.
It isn’t the pit
that consumes.
Rather, it is the peak that impales you,
the high of the knife
so sharp
it cuts away everything that matters,
and leaves you shredded,
alone
and
in
pieces.