{"id":757,"date":"2010-04-12T18:32:21","date_gmt":"2010-04-12T23:32:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?p=757"},"modified":"2010-04-12T18:32:21","modified_gmt":"2010-04-12T23:32:21","slug":"carol-lynn-grellas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/2010\/04\/carol-lynn-grellas\/","title":{"rendered":"Carol Lynn Grellas"},"content":{"rendered":"

Blue Fishnets <\/strong><\/p>\n

Blue fishnets were the in<\/em> for sixth<\/p>\n

grade girls in the sixties. Especially<\/p>\n

those with bruised knees and skinny legs<\/p>\n

from too much roller-skating across<\/p>\n

the slick surface of a glacier-like<\/p>\n

garage floor. It was Maurice who<\/p>\n

was surprised at my ability to perform<\/p>\n

figure eights in sweet succession<\/p>\n

as I became an infinity freak, rolling<\/p>\n

over cracks until smooth, the way<\/p>\n

a river flows to a waterfall. But it was<\/p>\n

his son who \u00a0loved my feet and begged<\/p>\n

to untie laces in exchange for three<\/p>\n

California green frogs as I sat on rust<\/p>\n

colored carpet in his bedroom one day.<\/p>\n

There began the fondling of toes,<\/p>\n

the understanding of obsessions and foot<\/p>\n

fetishes for which I was a supplier of feet,<\/p>\n

but the recipient of orgasmic massages<\/p>\n

from Joey Frank who danced in the dark<\/p>\n

with obsidian hair, who my mother<\/p>\n

would have yanked my curls and struck<\/p>\n

my cheek with wooden spoons had she known<\/p>\n

the shenanigans or goings \u00a0on that took place<\/p>\n

in a town I left too soon, where my heart<\/p>\n

was gutted for the very first time, when Maurice<\/p>\n

announced \u00a0they were moving. I miss roaming<\/p>\n

hands, the thrill of being eleven and the blue<\/p>\n

fishnets my mother hung across the shower<\/p>\n

bar after a good hand-washing; removing<\/p>\n

all signs of monkey business.<\/p>\n

Animal Kingdom <\/strong> <\/strong><\/p>\n

He was the guy<\/p>\n

who rolled over<\/p>\n

mouthing thank you<\/em><\/p>\n

prayers after lengthy<\/p>\n

sessions between<\/p>\n

the sheets. My quarantined<\/p>\n

lover who positioned<\/p>\n

careful fingers over<\/p>\n

every part of me.<\/p>\n

A seahorse-man<\/p>\n

who made musical<\/p>\n

notes and pressed<\/p>\n

his heart so deep into<\/p>\n

mine until we both became<\/p>\n

pregnant with the other.<\/p>\n

Bird Through a Window <\/strong> <\/strong><\/p>\n

Yours was a flight into a fractured<\/p>\n

light; a wren into the window<\/p>\n

already broken\u2500 an imperfect lens<\/p>\n

your alibi, though no apology<\/p>\n

was given as you somersaulted<\/p>\n

towards heaven while I arranged<\/p>\n

wild orchids by your side. A path<\/p>\n

of glory too bright for any mortal\u2019s<\/p>\n

eye for you were seeing rainbows.<\/p>\n

I try to imagine your arrival beyond<\/p>\n

a grove of poplars, magnificence<\/p>\n

awaiting you, a throng of angels<\/p>\n

wearing stars like boutonni\u00e8res<\/p>\n

against the moon. Their tearless<\/p>\n

benediction confirming you<\/p>\n

a child again, while I gather<\/p>\n

your things in a half-empty room,<\/p>\n

the glass by your bed with its spittle<\/p>\n

kiss on the rim. \u00a0A threadbare screen<\/p>\n

flaunts remnants of feathers tangled<\/p>\n

in mesh; ironic as a sieve ensnaring<\/p>\n

bits of what couldn\u2019t be saved.<\/p>\n

Carol Lynn Grellas is a three-time Pushcart nominee and the author of <\/em>A Thousand Tiny Sorrows<\/em> soon to be released from March Street Press along with two chapbooks: Litany\u00a0of Finger Prayers, from Pudding House Press and Object of Desire from Finishing Line Press. \u00a0She is widely published in magazines and online journals including most recently,\u00a0The Centrifugal Eye,\u00a0Oak Bend Review and deComp, with\u00a0work upcoming in Breadcrumb Scabs,\u00a0Past Simple\u00a0 and Best of Boston Literary Magazine. She lives with her husband, five children and\u00a0a little\u00a0blind dog who sleeps in the bathtub<\/em> <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Blue Fishnets Blue fishnets were the in for sixth grade girls in the sixties. Especially those with bruised knees and skinny legs from too much roller-skating across the slick surface of a glacier-like garage floor. It was Maurice who was surprised at my ability to perform figure eights in sweet succession as I became an […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[20],"class_list":["post-757","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-april-2010","tag-carol-lynn-grellas"],"yoast_head":"\nCarol Lynn Grellas - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/2010\/04\/carol-lynn-grellas\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Carol Lynn Grellas - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Blue Fishnets Blue fishnets were the in for sixth grade girls in the sixties. 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