the walls of dignity and duty.
Death tells me to sleep,
close the shades and curl up.
The future is a mountain,
madness with no clear line
The future is a necklace
I broke but must somehow mend
and try to wear.
I refuse this burden
too blob-like, inhospitable to bear.
I refuse the harm of martyrdom,
the distorted secrets divulged in dreams.
Nail it to the wall, pour boiled water
on it and let it cook until it no longer bleeds.
End this relationship as it reduces your strength
to a failed conclusion.
Flood the garden, drain it
and plant chrysanthemums.
Copyright © 2021 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Impspired – Issue 10 and print anthology Volume 5” April/May 2021
Published in “Synchronized Chaos” April 2021
You can listen to this poem by clicking the link below: