Rocking Towers


Rocking Towers



Tonight, the void creeps

in, with him, through

the wood framed doors.


like a heap of ash after

a day underground.


the bone, the eager heart, the eyes

that follow every gesture.


What survives now of the tower dream,

the stone skipping and the wishing well?


Both hands pressed against the T.V. set,

trying to block the talk

                                    and hold

the cut and thistle.


Both lovers glancing at the street lights’

glare, waiting

for the other to give

                        the word –

a blue blue touch




© 1992 by Allison Grayhurst




First published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” October 2018



Published in “Harvest” 1996



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:



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