by John Grey
The silence of a place
where people once lived
is eerie, cruel even.
Eerie, for how much
the creak of my foot on a stair
echoes through the rooms.
Cruel, for how those
who dwelled here are forgotten.
it’s as if they never were.
And the silence of a place
where people once lived,
can also be gruesome.
Gruesome, for the rotting,
cobwebbed, bloated corpses
hunched around the dining table,
with scraps of a rat-nibbled long-ago meal,
on cracked china plates before them.
But that silence
can also be reassuring.
I can move in here.
The rent, undoubtedly, is cheap.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident,
recently published in Stand, Santa Fe Literary Review, and Lost
Pilots. Latest books, Between Two Fires, Covert, and Memory
Outside the Head, are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the Seventh
Quarry, La Presa, and California Quarterly.
Ann Marie Rhiel was the Assistant
Art Director for Yellow Mama Webzine. She was born and
raised in Bronx, New York, and lived in New Jersey. She reconnected with her passion for
art in 2016 and had her work exhibited in art galleries around northern New Jersey ever
since. She was a commissioned painting artist, who also enjoyed photography. Her work also
appeared in Black Petals and Megazine Official.
Sadly, Ann Marie passed away in January, 2023...