Liquid Grey

by Allison Grayhurst / May 17th, 2015

These shapes I lose
like the hum of breath, lose
in a room like this
that breeds dumb despair.
I cry not knowing what
such grief dominates, feeling
the gully deepening, crossing
beyond all sensation of the sun.
I am what I cannot tell, am
drinking in this mild death,
discordant as a scream or dream.
I dream in shadows. I work within the zodiac spheres.
I see beyond but cannot kill
my fate nor offer a crumb
of kindness
to my enemy’s mouth.

Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. She has over 550 poems published in over 275 international journals and anthologies. She has eleven published books of poetry and seven collections, as well as six chapbooks and one e-chapbook. She lives in Toronto with her family. She also sculpts, working with clay. Read other articles by Allison, or visit Allison's website.

This article was posted on Sunday, May 17th, 2015 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.