I wait for you.
with catechisms, rising from
cracks in the over-used parking lot.
I’m not sure of the cost of this anticipation,
staring at you like a sage stares through a window.
You come while I am in this gestation
and you coat my palms with your touch
like hair conditioner, smelling almost artificial.
I would like to eat you to see if you are real.
I would like to seal you in a jar,
lick the tip and cliff of your prized Adam’s apple.
You are here and talking, and your words
are like lard lacing my tongue.
How I keep watching and waiting for you to use me,
to pour me into a small capsule, ingest me like a remedy.
I have skin-dived into a torrent wave for you,
my creases and crevices drenched
in a salty fire. Weld me now fully to your form.
I can’t remember what it was like to be converted.
I just remember this waiting, hearing you enter my house
when the cats are sleeping.
You are arriving again – this time,
glacial, annihilating, gorging on my submission.
You pace my carpet with otherworldly steps. You come,
touching bookshelves, dog toys, the clothes
I only wear in private.
I watch you from that carpet and continue
paying my daily homage. I am waiting to know
your attachment, wanting your warm fingers
to conclusively enter.
Give me this bond and
I will give up my agitation, give you
Copyright © 2012 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Whisper”
You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.
“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.
Book reviews of the River is Blind paperback:
“Throughout (The River is Blind), she (Allison Grayhurst) employs
reiterated tropes of swallowing and being consumed, spatial fullness
and emptiness, shut- in, caverns, chasms, cavities; angels, archangels,
blasphemy, psalms; satiation or starved. With a conceit of unrequited sex as “my desire”, nocturnal emissions, awakening in the morning, the poet lives at capacity, uninhibited, dancing,” Anne Burke, poet, regional representative for Alberta on the League of Canadian Poets’ Council, and chair of the Feminist Caucus.
“Allison’s poetic prose is insightful, enwrapping, illuminating and brutally truthful. It probes the nature of the human spirit, relationships, spirituality and God. It is sung as the clearest song is sung within a cathedral by choir. It is whispered as faintly as a heartbroken goodbye. It is alive with the life of a thousand birds in flight within the first glint of morning sun. It is as solemn as the sad-sung ballad of a noble death. Read at your peril. You will never look at this world in quite the same way again. Your eye will instinctively search the sky for eagles and scan the dark earth for the slightest movement of smallest ant, your heart will reach for tall mountains, bathe in the most intimate of passions and in the grain and grit of our earth. Such is Allison Grayhurst. Such is her poetry. THE RIVER IS BLIND is a must-read,” Eric M. Vogt, poet and author.
Your sure words, forthright, intense, are bold with gutsy sensual & spiritual
symbolism, It all stirs up a spell of delerium at this end
Thanx, from another dizzy reader
Beautiful and intense, a salty fire.