In the Bloodline
In the bloodline
like walls of lead
storing blockages like
clots and unlivable dilemmas,
the past is a monster
telling you what and what you don’t
deserve, beating on your brain
like on a dusty rug that will never
rid itself of mites no matter how hard
it is hit, will never release
its stains, can only be thrown out, over
the rail, into the dumpster.
In the vital present, uncompromised by thought
and expectations, nothing is determined,
no fortune teller to foretell what doesn’t yet exist.
Gravity is a false witness,
a trickster in the fold, folding this into that
into complex patterns void of significance,
except as patterns to follow, analyze, get lost in
as a desperate hope for control.
But the galaxy is not gravity,
is affectionate, unpredictable, purer
than understanding.
Bloodlines are straight lines
that nature abhors.
Ignore common enemies,
blow out the candles, blow,
arousing the birthing pulse
of a strange and glorious logic.
Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst
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Published in “Setu” April 2024
https://www.setumag.com/2024/03/Lit-Art-Culture-Journal.html
https://www.setumag.com/2024/03/poetry-allison-grayhurst.html
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Published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” March 2024
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2024/03/maelstrom.html
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Published in “Winamop” March 2024
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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