You are far, without a face.
Six nights on the bed beside
your brooding limbs, the covers
piled between us like a clotted vein.
I know you are sad, but it is never
enough just to say it,
to feel my arms full of your aching,
feel the fine fibres of isolation
choke your core until only the cramp remains.
And the longing in your eyes knows no bounds.
Copyright © 1997 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Low Word” February 2017
You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as…
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