The bough breaks
.
and dreams collapse uncushioned
like the smile that forsakes me
and the wonderful illusion of things past
but never lost.
For here I cut my antennae down
and kiss the pyramid on my grass,
blessed by the end result
but never by the happening:
I know the world
and it needs forgiveness.
For here the smell grew toxic
and the glass filled to overflowing,
but the grime inside never got better,
though polished every day.
For here I cradle my body to sleep,
the long way down is the only way down
and we are sold by the scars upon our throat,
by the longing discarded that never knew it
could end
and by the only relationship we are all
bound to have – our stronghold with or
not with
God.
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Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
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First published in “Crack the Spine” issue 64, and “Crack The Spine Summer 2013 anthology” under the title “For Here”
http://www.crackthespine.com/2013/09/summer-2013-anthology.html
http://www.crackthespine.com/2013/05/issue-sixty-four-contributors.html#more
http://issuu.com/crackthespine/docs/issue_64
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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