Empty drawer


Empty drawer


I can’t speak it

it burns, melts

down my throat,

riddling my stomach lining.

I can’t smell the wet

wooden fences, touch

what glistens naturally,

transient and pure.

Running from the socializers,

the money makers, money believers, ignorant

of death and of the weight of love.

I can’t stand in my special place,

domed by a protective layer of faith

and the muscle tissues of maniac grace.

I want to leave this war in which

what I say has no say, where I am pinned

to the gravel, spoke

wheels of the worldly controllers

rolling over my flesh and spine. Is there

mercy? Is there anything

open? Oxygen? Validation?

Is there anyone to talk to?

I would talk but I can’t speak

or move forward from this death trap.

In my mind, confinement abounds.

Blood letting, leach getting, plastered

to every underside of skin.

When will it be gone?

Will I be gone, clear of this

disability? Bicycle

riding, riding twisted garden paths.

Smile here, nod there at all the people in human clothes.

I am grey as my namesake, as a cluster of lackluster trees.

There is nowhere for me, nothing

I can understand.



Copyright © 2015 by Allison Grayhurst

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First published in “Duane’s PoeTree ” November 2015

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“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.

“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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