1.2 miles to lake

We rose like-- well, I would like to at least mention flowers,
but it had been a long walk and we were not perfumed.
It is true that the shade rode our shoulders in circles like bees,
when we passed under the ink-tipped fingers of the trees, yesterday,
but that was yesterday. So.
Today, we rose,
and the trail showed us its legs, dragging up the skirt of sky
until we passed the place where its other, older lovers
had gasping,
stopped;

where the shadows were of the mountain's own making:
each bruise a conversation
between light and stone, and there were no trees,
and we were what we were.

Someone said:
"Maybe we should take a rest,"
but the rest of us were anxious to outrun the smell
of our trembling selves, to climb the bare slope
before the things we had done to get there
got there: moving, and not showering;
how we had worn the path's dust,
and mentioned maybe mentioning flowers--

Well. If we only went a little further, we believed, if we rose
above the level of one more ridge, to what we had been promised
would be a revelation of blue, why the personal odor,
it just could not possibly keep up once we reached what
we were headed for, past the glacier-carved crease
of a white inner thigh,
where there would be

water.

Right.

"Fuck," someone whispered, and I explained that there was nothing to worry about:
it was supposed to hurt.

A/N: I wasn't sure what to rate this, uh.

I like the language you're using here, but I feel like the poem thinks of itself as cleverer than it really is. You have elements that I have seen and appreciated in professional writing, but here they feel, not forced but like a child trying to 'prove' he's an adult by doing things like pretending to smoke, drink, or whatever.

Some examples:

We rose like-- well I would like to at least mention

and unscrupulously mentioned maybe mentioning

On a positive note, I loved the imagery. The only issue was that I felt the imagery throughout was a lead-up to a sexual encounter, implied at least; most readers might be disappointed by the lack thereof. Still, your ending is otherwise highly amusing - full marks.

Also, I'd probably rate this 12+ if I were you, maybe 16+

Agreeing with ilyaeelz that the poem was a bit overwrought, and that it tried too hard to be clever.

Personally, I felt the ending was too intrusive and obtuse. You have the lush imagery of the rest of the poem, but then suddenly the coarseness of "Fuck", without any real lead up. While contrast can work wonders in a poem, the "Fuck" came out of the blue, and so it read as a non sequitur. Rather than the contast reading interestingly, it read as disjointed to me, as if, again, you were trying too hard to be clever with this.

As for the rest of the poem, I felt that you got a bit carried away with the punctuation, which not only made the ideas a bit tricky to follow, but contributed quite a bit to the overwrought feeling I got. Breaking up the long strings of full-stop-less words with an occasional period might help clarify the flow of ideas and add a bit of variety to the punctuation while also cutting down on the "too much" impression.