Poetry

Five Poems by Allison Grayhurst
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Sanguine

One small awakening to accept
acceptance - a lethargic arm on my shoulder
weighing down. Air that is security has never been my ocean.

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Voice

When you talk it is not
a shimmering sensation or
a delicate fluttering of

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Neruda

I can’t be and think like you,
majestic in your sensuality,
Godless but deep with sorrow, forever restoring.

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Broken

Breaking bonds and bonds
that are breaking in spite
of efforts made and lifetimes of

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Thirst

Mapping out oblivion, putting
lines where there are no lines. Like the small moths
that live all year in my closet, nibbling at clothes I forget to wear

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