Water Wings

Water Wings



Taking off my water wings


maybe in a year or two,

maybe in ten

I will front crawl

fast to the edge, go under, somersault,

push off and speed,


or climb the high diving board,

up the steep metal steps, gripping

tightly, half-way there to the edge, three quarters then

race and leap, arms outstretched, thumbs locked and

going down, hitting the water fast, gliding across

the whole of the deep end.


Letting go of spiritual infancy, primitive

magic-tricks that sometimes worked,

most of the time, didn’t,

to soothe my anxiety, needing

the evidence of God, instead

of trusting faithfully, fully

– water wings off, front-crawl free.



Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst




Published in “Bosphorus Review of Books” September 2020





Published in “Chicago Record Magazine” August 2020





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