a poem by Allison Grayhurst
Kill the Poet
ransack the diet of bliss.
Dust away all traces of inspiration,
childbirth, breath and roses.
what has stayed.
I am a sand-fish, surfing the bottom,
duties, commitments, leftover debris
to feed my already grown children.
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
dump all my seeds on stony ground.