Kill the Poet

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Kill the poet,

ransack the diet of bliss.

Dust away all traces of inspiration,

childbirth, breath and roses.

 

Thumbtacks, dried-out bones are

what has stayed.

I am a sand-fish, surfing the bottom,

accumulating 

duties, commitments, leftover debris

to feed my already grown children.

 

Notions of a mission? A nest of delusions obliterated.

Kill the loose ends, dynamite the cave, come

out in the open and say your piece. My bed is

rippled with loose springs, arranging my nightmares

in grand succession. Kill the poet. You killed

my last cup, spilled my endurance, and I am thinking

 

I will cut my hair cleanly off, clip my eyelashes,

dump all my seeds on stony ground.

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Copyright © 2014 by Allison Grayhurst

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First published in “Gutter Eloquence Magazine, Issue #30”, 2014

http://www.guttereloquence.com/issue30/grayhurst30.html