Hard slow force –

back the shape of half

a bell. Lipless

mouth wide with sunstroke

fear. Double eyelids

close, looks like gel

over two black wounds.


Your elbows tight inside

your chamber-shell. Your neck

stretched like a slinky, nodding

from side to side.


Without voice, your legs

leap out like arrows, push

frantically at the air.


You are in my hand, the size

of half-a-hand. You are quiet now,

head back inside your giant roof.


Released from human grip,

your feet feel water, edge

across piled-up rocks,

where you stop


to smell the dark aquarium

and rest

your tortoise-green




Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst


For Every Rain Cover 5

Our Children Are Orchards



First published in “The Peregrine Muse” July 2017



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:


Somewhere Falling has a richness of imagery and an intensity of emotion rare in contemporary poetry. Drawn in sharp outlines of light and darkness, and rich shades of colour, with a deep sense of loss and longing and the possibility of salvation, this is an unusual book by a gifted young poet. Grayhurst’s voice is one to which we should continue to pay attention.” — Maggie Helwig, author of Apocalypse Jazz and Eating Glass.

“Responsibility and passion don’t often go together, especially in the work of a young poet. Allison Grayhurst combines them in audacious ways. Somewhere Falling is a grave, yet sensuous book.” – Mark Abley, author of Glasburyon and Blue Sand, Blue Moon.

“Biting into the clouds and bones of desire and devotion, love and grief, Allison Grayhurst basks the reader, with breathtaking eloquence, in an elixir of words. Like lace, the elegance is revealed by what isn’t said. This is stunning poetry.” – Angela Hryniuk, author of no visual scars.



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