Tania Rochelle


You know better than anyone
how sad I am come Autumn anyway,

the way the cold brings its melancholy
heavy coat I canít unzip, and yet

you couldnít spare me Spring.
Now the ground bleeds green,

the cat wonít nurse her kittens,
and my child looks just like you.

Not new grass and newborns,
death is a bonfire, harvest moon.

Death is a plump, bright pumpkin, and you
should have carved your face in that.

Date of Birth: March 21, 1963
Location: Marietta, Georgia
Occupation: Writing Instructor, Portfolio Center
Email: troche4606@aol.com
Publications: Snake Nation Review, New York Quarterly, Iris; Mediphors, Three Candles, Blue Moon Review, Thunder Sandwich, The Drunken Boat, Stirring, etc.
Anthologies: Split Verse, We Used to be Wives
Awards: Editorís Choice Award from Snake Nation Review

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