Nights With You
After all the marvel has flown
and the egg is minced inside
its nest, I feel you in my sleep
as a babe feels its mother’s breast,
or a tribe its evening song.
I feel my skin brushed with gravel,
feel doubt sealing me inside its zoo,
feel my hope sink like money into a reeling sea,
then you with your labyrinth of love,
discover new ways to restore me, to hold me
close to your taut belly and drown
my breathing on your flesh.
I cross through the cabin doors. I soar within
November skies. My secrets are no longer mine.
And morning finds me strong in my footsteps,
patient once more.
Copyright © 1998 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Chicago Record Magazine” March 2017
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