This Broken Doorstep

by Carol Lynn Grellas

There is no speed necessary for this journey you’re on;
I'm here on this broken door step,
waiting in cracked cement
holding myself fast between nothingness and you.

Here I stand for years and minutes,
never counting as I’ve seen the cycles change:
the trees losing limbs during my long need.
You are on the way and I know that now

and I'm here on this broken door step.
The swing sways in empty moonlight;
even at the end of my days it will be holding you.
Shoulder to shoulder our flesh will melt.

Here on this broken door step,
waiting in cracked cement,
there lies a rose dropped from a flowering vine.
hopeful it would adorn your palm.

But there's no speed necessary for this journey you’re on;
I am here, on this broken door step,
waiting in the cracked cement.
I am on my way to you walking through bramble

and weeds as I smooth away time,
knowing your suitcase is open,
the moonlight as my flare.

Desperados

by Carol Lynn Grellas

Open me gently, Kathy
this letter that was so hard to write.
It hurts to miss you, now
that I know what a sunset is
after a day of worry and tears,
Life's been short without you,
you, who sat; a dancer at her piano
playing Desperado, by the hour;
we are desperados, Kathy
on the run from what’s chasing us—
only, you’ve fallen behind.
You, who loved me with rose-petal baths
and poppies on weekends;
hiding from the world outside,
when orchids lined windows while
we lounged on pillows
thinking our journey would go
on forever. I’ve lost my way to forever.
When a bird loses her way,
she needs the wind to send her flying;
I’m looking for that wind
to give me the courage
to fly. How I wish I could turn
in place and click my heels to find you—
once you told me you loved me too much
to ever say my name...
say it now Kathy, if only I could
hear you. Say it now, say it now
say it now.

Rumba Man

by Carol Lynn Grellas

Hey there Rumba man─
that dance you’re doing is double
x-rate and I’m ready to move
in four/four time

my skin shiny with sweat-filled
notes; real live erotica. Come
weep with me, we’ll moan through
oblivion, I’ll bend you like a wild

flower, your heart stroked to
suppleness on my soft wet tongue.
Come on rumba man, I’ll lick your face
to a beautiful-clean and when we’re

done your lungs will know the perfumed
scent of us; our legs tangled in this labyrinth
love. This is it your free pass
to stroke my curved body beyond

the moonlight’s cavernous call
a midnight-climax in measured
concert, like a massive wave
on the naked shore with one more

begging prayer from the lone girl
glistening nearby; mouthing
a take-me prayer, standing there
undressed and ready for a harmless

urge of symbiotic motion, the ocean
swelling from genitals lost
at sea, both of us crowned in myrtle,
where the sparrow is ever sacred

to even the coldest Aphrodite.