Julie Marie Wade

Grief as Troposphere

I imagine mountain-
climbers must feel this way
when they reach the rare-
fied air near the summit.
Dizzy, Jello-O-limbed,
a tad ecstatic to have
traveled so far without
dying.

At the top of Everest,
there is 66% less oxygen
than here at sea level.
Kerosene will not burn.
Helicopters cannot fly.

Does anyone ever look out
over the staggered slopes
and regret the moment
they booked this trip?
Climbing helmet, crampons,
ice ax and alpine harness.
Charge it. Don’t skimp! Once
in a lifetime.

The tickets to Nepal, plus
tents, food, poles, carabiners,
belay device—and Sherpas,
of course. Without whom,
impossible. Supplemental
oxygen. Charge it all. 

Does anyone ever ponder
while quivering in the selfie line:
Why did we come so far when we knew,
if we made it, we would only have
to turn around and climb down? 

Every victory has a volta.
Every sorrow is one.

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Julie Marie Wade's recent collections include The Mary Years (Texas Review Press, 2024), selected by Michael Martone for the 2023 Clay Reynolds Novella Prize, Quick Change Artist: Poems (Anhinga Press, 2025), selected by Octavio Quintanilla for the 2023 Anhinga Prize in Poetry, Fisk, By Analogy (CutBank Prose Chapbook Series, 2025) and The Latest: 20 Ghazals for 2020 (Harbor Editions, 2025), co-authored with Denise Duhamel. A finalist for the National Poetry Series and a winner of the Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Memoir, Wade teaches in the creative writing program at Florida International University in Miami and makes her home with Angie Griffin and their two cats. Her newest memoir, Other People's Mothers, was published in September 2025 by University Press of Florida.