by Steven Gulvezan


Sweet Jesus,

You know that I’ve earned

My fortune in heaven...

Please allow me

A bit of the leaven

Of peace hope and happiness

That, so far, seem to be missing…

The promises that dear Father Bob

Made just before he read me my rites…

Perhaps I wasn’t listening…

Was it all a delusion?

My plate is not golden

As I lay in the garden

And my heart has not softened…

Indeed it has hardened

As the worms crawl

Into my eyes and my brain…

Where is the golden chariot?

All of my life

My dreams were stifled

By torment and pain…

The hounds of misfortune

Dogged me all of my days…

When I was failing I thought,

Finally!  At last in death my time will come…



I fear all my suffering

Has been for naught…

At this point,

I desire to simply blank out

And disappear into nothing…

But I can’t seem to stop

My thought-wheel from grinding…

I would scream but my mouth

Was sewn shut

By the insane son

Of my family mortician…

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Writers Bio

Born in Detroit, Steven Gulvezan has worked as a journalist and a librarian.  His writing has appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Scythe, Red Fez, Heavy Bear, Gutter Eloquence, Battered Suitcase and many other literary publications.

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