It Takes You


It Takes You



Through the asylum streets

where the rain butters my hands

and mowed weeds scatter in piles on the curbs,

I look for your familiar figure

rushing between rush-hour strangers.


My bed is stale

with you wandering

from donut shop to open stages

silent and bewitched

by the lunar



I reach my hand to cup

an autumn leaf descending

and feel    


     feather blown.



© 1992 by Allison Grayhurst



Published in “Synchronized Chaos” November 2018

Synchronized Chaos November 2018: The Things We Carry

Poetry from Allison Grayhurst



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:



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