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Harmony
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If I make it into the warmth,
vibrant as a crushed flower, catch
when the sidewalk children
throw a ball, rake leaves
with my hands and scrapbook
the best of them,
then this shell could own its sensitivity,
and not just the underbelly, then the
painted road arrows will point
like divinations for the white butterfly and I
to follow – expectations, destinations shed
for a fullness of joy,
coral-coloured angles pursued –
outside our bodies, in sync
inside our bodies, aligned.
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Copyright © 2017 by Allison Grayhurst
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
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First published in “The Galway Review” January 2017
Allison Grayhurst – Three Poems
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.