Petals and fizzling small craters, inches
from the side of the road.
into the net and let
the struggle ensue.
I lived in corners
with the dead-mature, in flaps
like wishy-washy by-standers. But here, entering
the small soft mounds of pleasurable
taboos and smiling up in the treetops, I am sitting
on the weakest branch just to get the best overview.
is painted many colours.
I lost you in the nuclear glow. It happened
gradually, like a cliff descending,
I used to float –
a silhouette of fine cuts
and obvious edges. But I lost you and
it is good to lose extensions,
flavours of redundant delight.
Enthralled by sensual geometry,
by mountain ridges reflected in heartbeats,
wrinkles, rough spots, perfect
subconscious sway, and you.
You never loved me, never knew
I was a neophyte, taker of whatever
I could get, keeper of
an ethereal garden. I
will accept my joy
regardless of lack, discover joy
in what droops to provide me canopy, also
in what arches upward, proclaiming its praise.
Copyright © 2014 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Record Magazine”
You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
“Her (Allison Grayhurst’s) poetry appears visceral, not for the faint of heart,
and moves forward with a dynamism, with a frenetic pulse. If you seek the truth,
the physical blood and bones, then, by all means, open the world into which
we were all born,” Anne Burke, poet, regional representative for Alberta
on the League of Canadian Poets’ Council, and chair of the Feminist Caucus.
“What a treasure Allison Grayhurst is. Her gift? To unfold for us life at this intensity of feeling and revelation. Who knew truth and beauty could be so intertwined and so passionate?,” Taylor Jane Green BA, RIHR, CH, Registered Holistic Talk Therapist, and author of Swan Wheeler: A North American Mythology, Swan – A Planetary Mythology, and The Rise of Eros, 2014.