Poems and Poetry

Allison Grayhurst

Wish | A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

If I could wish the cat well, life
beside my father’s grave,
then as October nears
and the worms go underground,
I could bathe in my favourite season,
happy as I’ll every get,
change the rusty orange of my essence
and shed the density of summer.
If I could wish my children healed of their afflictions,
my husband, complete in his calling
and our empty cooking pot finally appeased,
then I could fall without shifting
the position of my bones,
I could be with a warm coat on, walking briskly
in a purifying seasonal breeze.


To Die for the Heart’s Illusions | A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

She is your halo, angel
that plagues you with her light,
slashes your self-defeat
with her wooing purity.

She gives you great meaning
to go on. A perfect child-god,
untouchable like an abyss: blue eyes,
sun-toned hair, like you in her
reflection.

She is delicate, holy, in need
of your protection. Daughter that swells
your cup overflowing with messianic intent.

But little girl, human
with her own flaws, that
you will never acknowledge, never
relinquish your idolizing love…

…from the cold claim of isolation,
where your raving dragons howl
as you drink her smile
like a remedy…

Visit Allison at http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.


Once Made of Stone – Wellesley Street | A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

What was the shape of that shelter before you came?
It was made of lost centuries of torment
and sporadic, but deep, connection.
It was more a seed than shelter,
protecting, feeding the blood dream of my ancestry.
Then you arrived and for awhile
we stuffed ourselves inside that shelter
like ying and yang, in zen-like union.
My path was to follow the dolphins – live in the sea,
breathe what I must and be happy.
But happiness was too hard,
I was left wanting the darker layers of guilt and grief.
Your path was to find what was given to you,
to re-claim your privilege, hand-printing the walls
as though you were king.
You took the bed, I took the floor. I paid the rent
and you shared your food. Soon that shelter then become
a fossil for me. And you and I – facing each other
with crossed arms, could not find a common ground.
The boy next door worshipped you, and more and more
I felt like the estranged sister, toyed with though loved.
I took my cat and left you with
the dollar day-old-donuts and the bottled water
you used to brush your teeth with. After that,
my trust was broken. And though we still painted together,
I never showed you my jewels or sorrows.
That shelter up all those stairs, overlooking
the streetcar tracks is now this paper, an inked-in memory
without entrance
from any valley, flat plain or hill.

Visit Allison at http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.


Because of Yesterday | A Poem by Allison Grayhurst

Through this dark dread
I will glide like the devil’s tail
beating my mark on every
hope and innocence.

When the rain falls I will be
without humble hands to receive,
I will have lost
my one good gift in life.
I will clock the years
as one who feeds
on the thinning muscle of memory.
And in bed, curled against an indifferent wall,
my mind will turn toward
a new myth
to encapsulate my joy.
I will grow old
like love does, like children do,
like the sparrow will
who rejoices despite a heavy snow. I will be without
your hand to hold and forever
my heart will know no other.

Visit Allison at http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.