the ocean stairs,
mounting the whales’ trail,
maneuvering depths and distances
Dream in the city at 5 a.m., accustomed
to the speech that comes just before the birds awake
and take away all formation of song.
This doorway, like a driving marked nightmare
cursing your already blooming cloud. Tomorrow
is the same leg-chain to drag behind, the same
shrinking dome to be lived under.
But tonight, I have you like a burning death,
one spot burning, one place in the house, fast
and immediate, wielding shapes
out of tall-far-away trees, from mind spaces,
fresh as newborn fish navigating
coral reefs and seeing which caves to hide in
or seeing what is hiding in –
Tonight, the bath water is ready, rooting
my body to its sensations.
The spell is dissolved, and clarity
becomes gold, a hailstorm of ecstasy, reaping
many more than one plateau, gliding gigantic above
these graves, loud, rudimentary, I have you,
nailing the flame
to both of our sinking thighs.
Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three times nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, she has over 950 poems published in over 400 international journals. She has sixteen published books of poetry, seven collections and nine chapbooks. She lives in Toronto with her family. She is a vegan. She also sculpts, working with clay.