But I was…

The Antagonist Sleeps, by Faizaan Ahab. Image Courtesy the Artist

But I was sleeping, exact as bread
to the lips of the famished. I was formidable in
my sleep, even laughing occasionally.
I am waking now and it is like falling — my knowledge
falling, my certainty falling like sheet metal too close
to my neck. I am nauseated and swallowing
so much heat that I would like to forget the loneliness
it generates, forget my naked self, heightened with
unknowing. My hands. I turn them over, they are not
bleeding. The window pane has not been cleaned. There are dishes here,
dishes there and dust inside my head. My eyelids are lifting,
watching the door. The door is warm from my gazing.
There is a river inside of me, flaring with electricity,
waking me. I do not want this grape — Sometimes
it is like staring at the sun: Imagine me, blind,
but so much more than who I was before
(eyes closed), sleeping.

~ Allison Grayhurst

Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. She has over 500 poems published in over 250 international journals and anthologies. She has eleven published books of poetry and seven collections, as well as six chapbooks and one e-chapbook. She lives in Toronto with her family. She also sculpts, working with clay.