A Dream Suspended
Sinking in the void, held by
nylon line and my eye sees nothing
but that void, cannot turn to the
sunny above or straight ahead to
the insect landscape and daffodils.
So the void spreads and sprawls, and then
starts to whisper – touching the shadow
to my skin, making promises
that haven’t even begun their manifestation.
Visceral futility stronger than fear
as I dangle over that blank-space reality,
and there is pressure like living gravity pulling me,
tensing the hold, wanting me to snap
and plunge into pure nothingness,
become the state of vacancy, have no frame,
no barrier or beating pulse.
It is winning, I hear
with even further taut suspension and
my weight grows, nearing that midnight twist.
A dream suspended that has my whole future in its hold.
So I call out for help like I have many times before.
Do I strike a match, pretending it is a star?
Hang like the tarot hangman over that dull and ruthless ache,
swing a little and I might feel the possibility of a breeze?
I dreamed myself untied and running, sometimes
skipping, brimming with a joyous equilibrium.
I dreamed there was no void, only a place
of still-time, a purgatorial interlude as I shift
from this flow into another.
Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Synchronized Chaos” September 2020
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: