How can I rock

between the eaten bread

and the rotten leftovers,

filling plates with putrid smells

and locked-in rage that rages in

an insomniac relentless punch

and tilt – twisting the bowels,

concerned only with petty victories?

 

How can I keep my self open

while needing full-on protection

from her drug-induced distancing eyes?

 

How can I live through another day

of exhausting intensity, with unveiled

shameless fears filling space and

the brutal-swerve

of a lingering inevitable?

 

How can I hold on until the end

hold out until permission is granted

to at last collapse flat out,

unfold, fold?

 

 

 

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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