The stone-frame sings
my threshold, sings my
heart’s futility. It is
so hard a cage it makes
my knuckles crack, it breaks
my bones from too much leaping.
The stone-frame wishes to be my womb, but
could never be a comforting hovel,
or resting ground away from
world-wind and flame.
The stone-frame maims my voice
from protesting, strikes a match
to my endurance and holds me in
its damp, dusty dorm.
The stone-frame lets me dream of miles
away from its door, but never lets more
than my imagination go wandering.
The stone-frame is my perception trapped
in faithless monotony, is my coward smile
that fears the chaos outside
its grey, unchanging walls.
© Allison Grayhurst
Excerpt from the book “Trial And Witness – Selected Poems”
About the Author
Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three of her poems have been nominated for Sundress Publications…
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