Nomad and Wife


Nomad and Wife



            Her dying bones

which still have the strength

of moon and fight are held

up on his altar-hut.

            Watching over – a small

figure with the once milking

flow of feminine

curve and charm.

            He will not be undone

by the pain or

winter’s fast approach.

(He places a carved bird at her feet.)

            He has killed for her dignity

marred and she for the power of his

wide-set eyes. They touch

hand to weatherworn hand

and know the sensation

singular like the sun

is singular in its power

to bless or deprive.

            They do not smile, their union

is too rich for such

a soft space between.

(They remember their children)

            Watching as her life departs,

his anguish echoes the high plains

undefended, heard only

by the gods. And the trees

so placid, absorb each cry,





Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst




Published in “Synchronized Chaos” June 2018



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