Steel and Spice


Steel and Spice



Inch across

the bell-cups of lilies

in the dead oblivion

of decades of reality’s denial.


Inch into the sweetness

of a lilac’s centre,

nourished on imagination everytime

over the bite of bitter soup.


Gather the crows in your morning sky,

ask them to envelop you and then ask

their forgiveness.


Hiding your panic

in the promises of miracles, licking the acid

off of your skin to make for a good story,

for the belief in an undamageable surface.

Mistaking silk for bread, counting on

God’s kindness to come on the brink

of desperate need.


Will you now

be a slave to the feast of worms or

strip-mine until what little gold you find

feels like abundance?


Maybe you are safe, living in this

burning garden, protected with a poet’s peace

and by a faith that bypasses gravity’s consequences, but

has consequences and demands of its own – ones

you must live by and dedicate yourself to keep


turn a blind-eye to practicality,

and press all fear into a resounding prayer,

existing on the substance of

divine gifts, gifts that are final,

that have no price to pay except that you

leave yourself leaning, tied and planted only

to this holy dreamscape liberation.



Copyright © 2017 by Allison Grayhurst



First published in “GloMag” March 2017



Published in “Rasputin: a poetry thread” April 2017


You can listen to the poem by clicking below:



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