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Sight at Zero

 

        I am where fireflies dance

in a birdless noon.

        I am treading water, looking

for a lodged piece of land

        or even a dolphin’s fin

to navigate me through this

        wounded sea. The air

is smoking & a world

        away lovers assassinate love

for the sensation of pride.

        Rain, drumming onto my neck, onto

my jugular, rain spewed from

       the moon’s mouth, enters & dissects

worse than any broken fame. Too late

        to cross the inner clouds. Too long lost

in the wood under a weird & angry sun.

        It is my jealousy

that has woken, generous

        with hate. It is agony & frailty

like an eggshell hammered

        by a razor’s sharp tongue.

I see dragons rise

        from sand dunes. I hear

the laughter of a bride. My days are closed.

        My element (water, hymn, water)

abandoned

        for wishbones.

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Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 

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First published in “Jones Ave.”, 1994

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.You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/sight-at-zero.m4a?_=1

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“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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