Our Love

Allison Grayhurst


Our Love


The salted lips,

the husky sea and the atonement

of death, I called you my tale

of the bull horn and familiar voice.

Crack through the corn cobs, through

the years that seem to spell-up without

answers or digestion. But you and I,

by heaven’s chapel and heaven’s cattle

left to graze, unkilled, we are sparrows

after a summer rain, blind still, but finding

shape in our children, and in and by the doorways

we have and have not conquered. We are

the mantle where crystals breathe their energy, and

we are the same as twenty years ago, having only

each other in this place of senseless oblivion, having

what others always long for, rich together

and forever as midnight.



Copyright © 2010 by Allison Grayhurst




Published “Setu” May 2017





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