Nick Allison

If I’d known what was coming
I might have stayed drunk—
wrapped in the amber hush
where edges blur
and headlines dissolve like salt.

Three years on,
thoughts scatter like pigeons
when I move too fast toward them.
If I leave them alone
they circle,
then vanish into sky.

Maybe free will is only a rumor.
Still, I can choose
which rumor to follow,
which to release
like a moth through a half-open window.

I try not to turn away
from the suffering of others,
even as the tidewaters
rise to my throat.

To reach into the clouds
without getting wet
may be impossible;
but fingertips dry quickly
in the shape of stillness,
where nothing holds,
and nothing has to.

Nick Allison is a writer and editor based in Austin, Texas. You can find more of his work at TheTruthAboutTigers.com.

This poem appeared in What We Hold On To: Poems of Coping, Connection, and Carrying On — Winter 2026, published by The Chaos Section Poetry Project. We’ll be featuring each poem from the collection individually in the weeks ahead. You can read the full collection or download a free PDF of the chapbook here.