I think we've all been here with the first of these two pieces …Ed

Regarding Your Submission

though we appreciate the effort
you took, we’re very sorry
for the postage stamps you’ve wasted
in your attempt to deliver poetry.

We did enjoy a few lines
that showed promise, especially
the one comparing death
to an embryonic state of being.

But it wasn’t enough to move
us, or send a shiver down Mary’s
telekinetic spine, and we’re convinced
she is the barometer for all promising

poems; not that we need a mind reader
to set the bar for our decisions,
but her paranormal abilities transcend
the norm, and so we call this the Mary-test,

which unfortunately you did not pass.
My best advice would be to read,
read, read. Unlock something new
from a warbled dream, a disturbing

experience, try to examine the smallness
of things, and find the grandeur
in what seems absurd. Consider possiblities,
like spending a day in the life of an ant.

I’ve used a magnifying glass once
or twice and angled the sun’s rays
perfectly, just to burn an insect or two
in hopes of writing a masterful poem.

I assumed the incident would lend itself
to something metaphorically wonderful,
as I watched them fighting for the little
lives. Unfortunately Mary shared

with me later, that my poem
came by way of tortuous effort
and was therefore discounted considerably
when she reviewed my work.

The trick is to confuse the audience
until they have no idea what
you’re saying, and if your poems
come on Friday, there’s good

chance we’ll have had a couple
of shots of tequila, which make
for more positive responses
since Mary usually eats the worm.
 
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 
My Mother at a Job Interview

Let's see…

You’ve expertise with poison ivy
when your children woke with eyelids
swollen shut and lips that quivered
Mommy, in voices whistle-shrill–

the skill of sitting up each endless
night distracting them from itchiness,
no pill could ever do all that.
The way you rubbed them down

with alcohol when fevers reached
1.4 like some magic Queen of voodoo;
you’re a sorceress with more
than wonder hidden in your bag

of tricks, but they will never know
the way you’ve kept ten thousand
tears inside, alleviating fears,
while praying for those miracles–

so far non denied; as if you knew
they’d always come. How do we
evaluate the sum of all you’ve done
for them? I think we’ll mark

your application, and use a scale
from one to ten, determining
what job your suited for, till then
how 'bout we just put Wonder

Woman on you door.


* Carol Lynn Grellas is a Northern California-based writer, where she attended Santa Clara University as an English major. She is the author of two chapbooks Litany of Finger Prayers soon to be released from Pudding House Press and Object of Desire accepted for publication by Finishing Line Press and will be forthcoming sometime within the year. She has been widely published in magazines and online journals. Carol Lynn lives with her husband, Jim, five children and a blind dog named Ginger, who inspire much of her poetry.