I will not be drawn
into you – mute with treacherous emotions,
shadowy at best in this morose of need and trophies.
Love is not a possible banner to bear. Love is not
this city, painted with greed and the ‘doing anything’ for survival.
It is okay to die, but not okay for my mind to be inebriated
with euphemisms, misty without edge or sharp magic.
I will not be drawn into the giving of roses or waiting
for the things within to confirm connection with what is heavy,
tedious and demanding. I will stay in place,
committed to my familiar adventure,
block the gold from clawing on my screen. I will just look
and see nothing new, feel like a shoreline on a day of perfect weather.
I will not be drawn. I will myself concealed
in my mad lagoon, immune to any intoxicating distraction or further
“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,” Eric M. Vogt, poet and author.