.

Treading Water

.

.

I hear hummingbird’s wings

figure-eight beneath my skin.

Too many bitten sandwiches, people

walking by, containing

their anguish.

The wordless hymn

is a waterfall, pouring

through the smoke: not a dry ocean,

but, rejoicing. But this mind

is like an axe, slaughtering my joy

with world-worn concerns.

 

Who craves the contradictory high? Do I?

Do I love for nothing but death and bramble?

 

To be blinded by ecstasy,

to hunt again for the colossal Self.

 

I walk through the dust-ridden morn.

The wind splits my shell like a labouring woman:

It enters. It expels. It knows

everything.

 

 

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 

.

Published in “Synchronized Chaos” June 2018

https://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-june-2018/

http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-6/

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.