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Five Months

September 21, 2012

by Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas

May in your Bedroom

Lilacs rose beyond your window when the world
fell silent. You heard remnants worthy of lament
like a seashell pressed against an ear; petals
revealing a windy gust of secrets.

June at the Chapel

A prevailing scent of angels wafted through
his celebration of life as if the incense was made
of halos and wings amidst the gentle creep of peace.
Death brings memories where nothing’s meant to keep.

July in the Apartment

She wept alone though one door away her neighbors
eavesdropped with a glass against the wall. A throng
of listeners addicted to someone else’s sorrow
as if misery was something made to borrow.

August after the Move

All I can do is pretend to know what knowing is,
and pretending is better than knowing when
the outcome is a shaky plan at best. There’s
no such thing as sleep, though some may rest.

September in the Garage

Those dolls are missing the child they used
to play with. They sense disorder, their eyes
never blink for fear someone will think
they’re slumbering from idleness.

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Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas (website) is a six-time Pushcart nominee and Best of the Net nominee. She has authored eight chapbooks along with her latest full-length collection of poems: Epistemology of an Odd Girl, newly released from March Street Press. She is a recent winner of the Red Ochre Press Chapbook competition for her manuscript Before I Go to Sleep and according to family lore she is a direct descendent of Robert Louis Stevenson.

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