in the sleepy-loosened
day. A childhood of
bridges, masterpiece aromas
that overlook the playing fields –
one year, two grades and people
once beautiful, now ordinary,
bike turns, riverstones, skipping
on driveways, melting ice over grates
long pleated hair, dark, looking into
competitive eyes. It was the last
year I was there, spending evenings staring
at the gaudy peeling wallpaper or
in the basement crawlspace, space
without any windows, hearing
hockey games, spiders mating, silhouettes
disintegrating. It was the last time
in that car for that car ride, through dull highway hours,
cats in boxes, on laps, children waving, music at half mast,
Copyright © 2014 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Coe Review, Volume 45, Issue 1”
You can listen to the poems my 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.
Reblogged this on MrMilitantNegro™.
What poignancy. A feel, a tapestry of experience. Showing us how life works – all the impressions, all the input, all the images, all the sensory stimulation, all the feeling experiences, all the emotions connected to imagery – all the poetry around us all the time, that makes up a life, that makes up life, that makes up a memory, that makes up the stunning wonder of memory.