No Wedding Day

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No Wedding Day

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Held up by the strings

and the ragged chains

of expectation.

 

This is the

last vein to burst,

the last root

to dry.

 

Keep your milk

and music for

the moon – mother

of dreams, mother

of personal metaphor.

 

The marriage ring has taken

its final curve.

From now on, only

a gypsy smile,

only a trumpet blow

for the wanderer’s freedom.

 

Clouds cave over the sun

like a fist. Children play on

the green-pink hills

as all disappointments line up

on the wave of their laughter

to be killed or

pardoned.

 

 

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Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

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amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Madness Press Muse LLC” May 2018

5 Poems by Allison Grayhurst

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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