Tangled by the Slow Fire
I fell then ran
from murder to counterspin,
leaving praise in the mudslide
and my breathing-in, rich with toxins.
I spiraled into the crematorium
weighed down by other burning corpses.
I could not hold. I cannot crawl out –
this nylon weave, this room of pestilence
and out-dated cough syrup. No nurse is near,
no toll-free joy up ahead.
Can there be another roof to leap from,
another danger to combat and empty my grainbags for?
The cell, the sand, the year without shade –
It all happens without the moon. This floor can’t
carry my weight. It all happened without a final hour.
The hand has gone with the hangnail.
Guilt is my terror and the emptiness of the tide.
Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Bursting Plethora of Rainbow Colors”
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“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.