The door is

 .

The door is the light,

is the beat that hums through

my body. I cannot find its source

or grasp its inspiration.

I can only vaguely feel that it is not dead,

that it is thin and thinning.

The light is the door I cannot mend

or reach for under that canopy when the storm has hit

full force, and the hammer

drives down.

The light is the door

that has no lovers. It is a psalm,

a one-way ticket to wage a life on.

.

.

Copyright © 2010 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Kalkion”, 2012

http://www.kalkion.com/poetry/2068/door

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

Done

.

I am done

with the breaststroke of infernal lies.

I am done with the twitching eyes,

people without boundaries – hard things

like crossing graveyards, hesitating

intimacy. I am done with money.

I am through with platforms and curls,

with the forceful devil and things that make me feel

unsure. I see the spring

and it is waiting to throw me

a rose. I see things, and I am done with

the loins of the zodiac, through with eastern gods

and western hopes. This is me, standing empty –

fields on either side. Drown me in this solitude.

Take my blood and make me

a monastery.

.

.

Copyright © 2010 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

First published in “Far Enough East – Issue Six”, September 2014

http://www.farenougheast.com/issue-6/1-poem-allison-grayhurst/

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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