.
Sister
.
.
With your random intimacy, you gather
like a fresh season
in my unchanging days.
The letters I write you
turn blue with sorrow, yellow
with self-lies.
I am a woman
bearing this seed of false explanations.
Am I meagre? Have I calculated
truth and love, inch by inch
as severable, solitary desires?
I am sinning beneath a half-moon, wanting
to shape my thighs perfectly,
but I have only two hands to mend this wound,
and even their double skill and devotion
is inefficient for such a task. It is better left
to trust, to fate,
to an open-hearted ruin.
I believe in your perfect happiness,
your nunnery in a Montreal duplex, your discipline.
I will join you someday, look into your priestly eyes
and feel once and for all
upright.
My mind is whitewashed.
Your smile is surfacing
like a cleaned glass swan.
On the shore or in the sandpit
we will arrive,
whether it take over night
or lifetimes.
.
Copyright © 1991 by Allison Grayhurst
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
.
.
Published in “Synchronized Chaos” May 2018
https://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-june-2018/
http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-6/
.
.
Published in “New Mystics” July 2018
http://newmystics.com/lit/AllisonGrayhurst.html
http://www.newmystics.com/documents/AllisonGrayhurst-Poems5.pdf
.
.
You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
.
.
.