You are wrong


You are wrong

You are wrong as the emptiness

that fills the space after rejection –

monotonous and monotone, a faker in the flesh.

Once taking up a whole continent in mind,

you were the designated bearer of sunlight.

I cared for your wrists, your pulse, the offspring

of your brilliance. I stood beside you, always a little lower,

maybe sterile, never enough. It was that voice that weighed

inside of me holding a gravity of its own, glorifying

even the cold intake of breath after words, your words

that meant more to me than memory, that wore into me like

acid painted on my skin, scorching, welcoming because

they were harsh and indisputable. But now

I exile you from my soul.

Your spring cleaning is death to my desire.

You are wrong and flat and you

don’t smell the same. You exist, but only as a chair does

or a house full of boring furniture. You have two

feet, still standing, but I imagine nothing hidden in your eyes –

what I see is beyond my attachment, easy now

to walk away from.



Copyright © 2014 by Allison Grayhurst

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First published in “VIMFIREmagazine”

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“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.



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