Carol Lynn Grellas

Carol Lynn Grellas is a three-time Pushcart nominee and the author of two chapbooks: Litany of Finger Prayers, from Pudding House Press and Object of Desire newly released from Finishing Line Press.  She is widely published in magazines and online journals including most recently, The Centrifugal Eye, Oak Bend Review and deComp, with work upcoming in Breadcrumb Scabs, Past Simple  and Best of Boston Literary Magazine. She lives with her husband, five children and a little blind dog who sleeps in the bathtub.

A Mall in California

(After A Supermarket in California, by Allen Ginsberg )

What needs I have for you tonight, Victoria Secret

for I stroll past the naked mannequins, half-dressed

with funnel shaped breasts and hair of lacquered pearl.

  A girl who prays for moonlit nights to angle light

just right and bombard my windowpane with galaxies

of unknown inventory. But you with your aisles full

of thong-back panties and lace-net bras of fleur-de-lis,

I can imagine the husbands hallelujahs. What plums

with hidden nectars- ripe as teats for nursing babes.

And you Johnny Depp, I am here a minute past

the dressing rooms.

I saw you Victoria Secret, I saw you placing your mirrors

akimbo to the walks, rose-toned halogens brightening

up the ambiance. Are you my savior? My wingless

goddess giving me hope? I danced in serpentine

steps between the cashier and the husbands needing

a centerfold;  but I am old and my mind is hostage

to fantasy. I pass the girls with robust frames, standing

amidst the pendulums constant tick. The clock whisperer

is calling my name.

Where are you going, Victoria Secret? Security is closing

the double-chained door. Which heels are best for this nudity

show? You are the mother of bringing sexy back and arousing

desire from some pitiless sight, my plight a nude desire

where ambition is fueled by fire and no man can say no

to an unhooked bra.

 Ah, Victoria, sweet encourager of support and midnight

fallacies, what has become of the flower-child bohemian

mantra, the breathing heart of uninhibited passion, where

nothing proves as beautiful as bosom pressed to skin?

Candy Addict

Do you offer them candy?

Only if they beg for candy and their whole

body quakes with need, but after the first

day we confiscate everything.

What do you feed them?

Whatever they want, except no candy.

I have mint cigarettes that suffice

for those who suffer withdrawals.

Don’t they all suffer withdrawals?

Yes, but not all care for mint cigarettes.

Sometimes we use Cyberkinetics

Do they complain about the pathology

of fate and harm?

Yes, sometimes they threaten to slit their wrists.

What do you tell them when this occurs?

I hold out my arms and show them the scars;

Do they think you’re an idiot for such a display?

No, they kneel beside me and pray.

Sevenling

A Battenberg collar holds her delicate
face like an opened flower. She pouts;
lips the color of blushing rhododendrons.

Her portrait rests on the dresser in a gilded
frame. I heard she had six husbands, 
a love for alligator handbags and one 

child who was my mother.