Allison Grayhurst

A CHANGE TO CHERISH
The days are changingand so is the reliable reflectionI looked upon under scrutinyfor a decade-and-a-half.Gone is the waste bin of logical stressand the appetite that never found its proper food.Here is the chair I kneel uponlooking beyond to an inspired view.The dream is coming like all great things comewith a handful of sand that mustbe chewed, ingested and joinedto the bloodstream.The days are changing, the old is disappearinglike dew evaporatingin the hot rising noon.

THE DAY IS LIKE
The day is likethe day beforethe worm arrivedin a jar at my doorstep.Like before I took the worm inand fed it lettuce leaves and fresh water.Like before I had something to care for,when loneliness was the largest difficulty aroundand isolation pounded beneath my lids likea cancer.The day is tick tock and as slow as waitingfor that needed check to arrive.I collect the noises from outsidebut have nowhere to put them. I open my mouth,but my voice has gone underground.The sun looks in on me, but evades my skin.I don’t hold my breath. I let it in and out.I let the day be a blank wall.And sometimes a day like today is likean empty room and this empty roomis a treasure.

Allison Grayhurst is a 44 year old woman. Over the past twenty years her poems have been published in journals throughout the United States, Canada, and in the United Kingdom. Her book Somewhere Falling was published by Beach Holme Publishers, a Porcepic Book. She has two children, two cats, and a dog, and lives in Toronto with her husband. She also sculpts, working with clay.