PrintPoem – Overpass (By Allison Grayhurst)
Overpass
In the gravel hole
slumbering in cold fatigue
open and open is tomorrow
never arriving. But pale and pasty
sickness in my mirror is all I see
when I look at my changing body, changing
again to form a great wonder.
Weak as a broken limb, my mind
is empty of inspiration and I am drifting with this seed
from day to day waiting for the sting to pass
and leave only a larger belly and joy
of what (in time)
will be.
[su_allison_grayhurst]