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Heavy As Any Ache

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We cannot

hang in the grip of this cloud

for long. The waste

of bad habits, concealing

kindness with a show

of wit. Sarcasm as fatal

as a cut throat or plain as

a child’s cry.

Hearts stuffed with

hollow match-stick crimes.

 

Counter clockwise the sun spins. The moon

climbs the back of an angel, breaks

her thin spine.

 

You look the other way, look for a hero

rising from your hands, for a rainbow

in my flooded eyes.

 

It cannot be done. We cannot be more

than mortal.

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© 1992 by Allison Grayhurst

.amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “Our Poetry Archive” November 2018

https://ourpoetryarchive.blogspot.com/2018/11/allison-grayhurst.html

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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