It's just poetry, it won't bite

In love


11.05.11 Posted in today's words by

Allison Grayhurst lives in Toronto. Over the past 20 years her poems have been published in journals throughout the United States, Canada, and the United Kingdom including The Antigonish Review, Dalhousie Review, The New Quarterly, Wascana Review, Poetry Nottingham International, The Cape Rock, and White Wall ReviewHer work was also included in the Insomniac Press anthology Written in the Skin. Her book Somewhere Falling was published by Beach Holme Publishers, a Porcepic Book, in Vancouver, 1995.

In love
By Allison Grayhurst

In the empty spaces I wait
for you, for my own being to
bend again towards your beating chest.
And sorrow like a grey October morn
stretches between us, leaves us each
alone watching out the same window.
We are locked like the shore to the sea,
perfectly different and merging in natural
rhythm–each shell and struggling fish
exposed, until we hide in separate elements,
bonded to our own. I follow your footsteps
in my mind, then kiss your shoes for speaking.
You turn on the tape recorder and commune
with the clouds. Often I have held in my breath
and ignored the ache in my throat. I have loved you
without giving–under blankets, more at ease
with the coming of private sleep than with trying.
Often I am bruised by your laughter,
counting pennies on the table with fierce concentration.
Though you with your beautiful hands,
hold all the mystery my heart can fathom,
pressing with gentleness my folded brow,
or blending your legs with mine, sure and warm
as the summer earth.



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