.

Over the Wishing Pond

.

.

I run with the fool of winter,

with pity frozen to my feet.

 

In this town without mountains,

I escape by singing to

the subway walls.

 

Beggars fly by my window.

 

A friend’s soft neglect invades

my ears, my blood and happiness.

 

It is the way of nausea and anarchy,

and the signs

from the seagulls still

echo through the parking lot.

 

There is no shelter in naked revenge,

only a serpent racing up and down

the walls. Only outside, a dozen animals

sitting ready for battle.

 

I want midnight and perfect noon sun.

I want to obliterate

the sickness that spreads across

this isolated terrain, leave everything

outlined in light.

.

.

.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

First published in “The Amethyst Review, Volume 1, Issue 2”  Summer 1993

  

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

 

“Grayhurst’s poetry is a translucent, ethereal dream in which words push through the fog, always searching, struggling, and reaching for the powerful soul at its heart. Her work is vibrant and shockingly original,” Beach Holme Publishers.

“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.

.