the ocean stairs,
mounting the whales’ trail,
maneuvering depths and distances
Dream in the city at 5 a.m., accustomed
to the speech that comes just before the birds
awake and take away all formation of song.
This doorway, like a driving marked nightmare
cursing your already blooming cloud. Tomorrow
is the same leg-chain to drag behind, the same
shrinking dome to be lived under.
But tonight, I have you like a burning death,
one spot burning, one place in the house, fast
and immediate, wielding shapes
out of tall-far-away trees, from mind spaces,
fresh as newborn fish navigating
coral reefs and seeing which caves to hide in
or seeing what is hiding in –
Tonight, the bath water is ready, rooting
my body to its sensations.
The spell is dissolved, and clarity
becomes gold, a hailstorm of ecstasy, reaping
many more than one plateau, gliding gigantic above
these graves, loud, rudimentary, I have you,
nailing the flame
to both of our sinking thighs.
© 2018 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “Outlaw Poetry” June 2018
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: