Golden Eagle Awakened from my dying on the barren hill. I speak my mind, and I am pulled off course, rejected in my honesty, as though I had no right to drum my dream, as though silence and the undercurrent of resentment, confusion and blame was so much better, as if clarity was a betrayal… Continue reading Poem by Allison Grayhurst
Tag: Allison Grayhurst
When I Met an Angel She Was On a Subway Car by Allison Grayhurst
Dyed, dull blonde, roots showing, hunched over, more than middle age.