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a poem by Allison Grayhurst

Kill the Poet

Kill the poet,
ransack the diet of bliss.
Dust away all traces of inspiration,
childbirth, breath and roses.

Thumbtacks, dried-out bones are
what has stayed.
I am a sand-fish, surfing the bottom,
duties, commitments, leftover debris
to feed my already grown children.

Notions of a mission? A nest of delusions obliterated.
Kill the loose ends, dynamite the cave, come
out in the open and say your piece. My bed is
rippled with loose springs, arranging my nightmares
in grand succession. Kill the poet. You killed
my last cup, spilled my endurance, and I am thinking

I will cut my hair cleanly off, clip my eyelashes,
dump all my seeds on stony ground.

© by Allison Grayhurst
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #30 ~ April 2014