In the end,
your love was not rich enough –
was a heavy but surface love, never a defending love,
defending despite the threat of a spinal break.
Cool now. Almost cold as a thief without remorse,
the stars that are falling are always falling
onto mountain peaks, into reservoirs, falling without
the angels’ consent, falling, breaking the sky like death
breaks the heart.
The toll was paid. You sleep with grace under your pillow,
but not passion. You’ve loosened the roots of the tree.
It will never make it through another winter.
Will you miss your shade, your safe and magical place,
your lookout tower?
Will you miss the scent of the phoenix feather,
those deep waters that once felt like home?
Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. She has over 450 poems published in international journals and anthologies. She has eleven published books of poetry and five collections, as well as six chapbooks and one e-chapbook. She lives in Toronto with her family. She also sculpts, working with clay. Visit her website: http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.