The backside of the shadow
is awake, and losing ground again
burning in the sinkhole, into
a conclusion of harsh hard
cause-and effect.
Eyelids lower, sleep is never rest
but a patchwork horror-show
of violence and loss and things
once perfect, stolen
behind locked doors.
Underground, the circus continues
and I will never find my way out
of this mirrored maze.
I know that if I lie flat in the stark silence,
mortal eroding flesh is inevitable.
Extravagant love always has a price.
The price owed has been paid and I must leave
the turning circle, step past the fissure-groove
and sink into a faith abiding.
I will walk with you reckless
over this abandoned lake,
skipping across veiled skin ice,
thinning, seeing through, skipping,
and somehow never a crack will form
and never your toe nor my heel
falling through.
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Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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Read whole poem:
https://allisongrayhurst.com/my-mothers-sky/
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