Poetry by John Grey
It’s one half step, a ledge, prepare to leap,
As if the sane world pushes from behind,
Or firm hands of humiliated mind
That, with such cruel insistence, can’t help keep
In focus plain, what smolders hard and deep
Within these ones of that defenseless kind
Who, in the dregs of logic, sadly bind
Untroubled end to potent troubled sleep.
Yet here she is, most buoyant, rested, clear
Of head, and answering the phone, the door,
To give lie to a precipice so near;
She heard sublime impertinence implore
To jump is peace, and yet, she’s well, she’s here,
When she vows she can’t take it anymore.
About the Poet
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in the Homestead Review, Harpur Palate and Columbia Review with work upcoming in the Roanoke Review, the Hawaii Review and North Dakota Quarterly.