Pieces to Gather

.

Pieces to Gather

.

.

            A drowned fish, silver, snared

with an expression of permanent ache.

Eyes, fish stunned, fish glass

glaring from a window in the market

in the dubious afternoon.

            The shattered green

of ocean from a storm-struck sky,

lightening-flesh tipping, ripping the lid

and letting in the rains.

            Mountains of harsh winters, opaque

like the wings on a featherless angel.

Mountains, male in their faith and in their marriage

to moonlight.

            Chains, slate grey and criminal

as clouds over rainbows, as necessary

as a first childhood dream

laughed at, forgotten.

.

.

© 1992 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

First published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” October 2018

http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/10/even-though.html

.

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.