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(page 51 of 93)

Longest Day
Poem by Allison Grayhurst
Previous (page 50)  |  Return to Contents  |  Next (page 52)

Longest Day
Poem by Allison Grayhurst

(page 51 of 93)

Keywords: eleventh transmission, poetry, fiction, photography, visual art, spoken word, film, socially engaged,
political, human experience, writing, satire, photojournalism, activist art, activism, socially conscious, art

Longest Day

by Allison Grayhurst

So bends the tale
of the longest day.
The ghost under my flesh
twists the promise put on paper
that was bound to help my hunger.
And the day drips like stale milk onto
a dry tongue. The word came.
The word was drilled as though it were a crooked
bench – torn apart to turn into something
different. Morning ended. It is good to unveil
the enemy, but waking is always a crushed seashell
once picked as a child, and nothing is that simple.
Diving, piercing the fourth layer of water. Landing nowhere
without sustenance or surplus. The thief inside
wishes to loosen itself from the sharp edges of morality.
My hearing tries to stay shut from the sounds of inevitable
ugly death.
The day is a giant stumbling through a
playground. Is it this I need?
Another eyelid to open, to open and to close?

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