A Dream Suspended

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

the creaking

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:


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