plunging into a chilled lake, muscles arrested, infinity found


plunging into a chilled lake,

muscles arrested, infinity found



Flawless sheen in a ladybug’s eyes.

Elephants chain-footed, castrated at the core

without tether or lead. Burning wood.

Dead fish rocking, cold on the fisherman’s hook,

hamster in a toilet paper roll, rolling.


          It is heavy, this voice you grow outside of me,

this voice I cannot mistake for imagination.

I wake up, examine the leaves, fold dishtowels,

clean counters, feed my children,

no water to cool my fevering wrists,

no nourishment of a practical nature,

occupying no worthier devotion.

          A pillaging, reflection of

a doorway. Chimes have lost

their meaning a quarter-of-a-century ago

when they chimed in a make-shift Japanese garden,

where lifetimes remembered were gumballs pocketed,

to be taken out at leisure, savoured over, replayed, role-played

then returned to compartmentalized pleasure.


          Lips move across hairlines,

back-of-the-neck lines, dry from quick breaths,

building beyond capacity, unforgiving

with controlled intent.

          Waiting to be snatched

without hesitation, tasted like a ripe blueberry,

not to be a modern atheist, pruned of pure intensity,

but to be fresh as a baby’s full-body smile,

cover my calendar with a satyr faith flowing,

live with dolphins, participate in a kinder society

where the privileged and pickpockets have no play,

go on a pilgrimage, take my family, disappear

on a cold high mountain, watch animals

give birth and die.

          Urgency escapes me,

months merge, asking nothing in return,

pulsing a diluted vibrancy, no more

as bread or fire.

          Swing from a crane

or a swinging crane in a storm.

Indulgences dig as glass into exposed roots.

Ambitious notes fail, will always fail

before a greater sun.



.Copyright  © 2012 by Allison Grayhurst




First published in “The Furious Gazelle” June 2015

Furious Gazelle 1   Furious Gazelle plunging 1 Furious Gazelle plunging 2 Furious Gazelle plunging 3 Furious Gazelle plunging 4     Furious Gazelle bio


You can listen to the poem by clicking below:


“Allison’s poetic prose is insightful, enwrapping, illuminating and brutally truthful. It probes the nature of the human spirit, relationships, spirituality and God. It is sung as the clearest song is sung within a cathedral by choir. It is whispered as faintly as a heartbroken goodbye. It is alive with the life of a thousand birds in flight within the first glint of morning sun. It is as solemn as the sad-sung ballad of a noble death. Read at your peril. You will never look at this world in quite the same way again. Your eye will instinctively search the sky for eagles and scan the dark earth for the slightest movement of smallest ant, your heart will reach for tall mountains, bathe in the most intimate of passions and in the grain and grit of our earth. Such is Allison Grayhurst. Such is her poetry,”  Eric M. Vogt, poet and author.

“Grayhurst is a great Canadian poet. All of Allison Grayhurst’s poetry is original, sometimes startling, and more often than not, powerful. Anyone who loves modern poetry that does not follow the common path will find Grayhurst complex, insightful, and as good a poet as anyone writing in the world today. Grayhurst’s poetry volumes are highly, highly recommended,” Tom Davis, poet, novelist and educator.

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