Three Poems

Poetry
Holly Day


Photo Credit: Ikhlasul Amal/Flickr (CC-by-nc)

The Letters Keep Coming

cringe. draw away from me out
of me slough away
promises burn holes
in dreams I know
you, silent in the darkened hall, white armor
stripped and revealed to be paste. tell me why
I need you. don’t leave me yet. run. pull

yourself off of me out of me get
as far as you can from
me, I exile you because
I know. once a week

she calls me to let me know you’re still
sleeping with her, tells me about
the life you have planned
for the two of you. she wants forgiveness.
she wants to know if I’m okay with all
of this.

I tell her I’m fine

 

White Knight

it would be easier to think of my husband as being a white knight
if I wasn’t the one always killing spiders, digging holes for dead pets
waking up the middle of the night with babies and
going to work every day. If it wasn’t me putting food on the table
every night, I could maybe see him as some sort of hero.

I’m not sure why. My mother used to tell me that
being a wife and being a mother were two very similar things
that no matter how hard a wife works, she still has to pamper
her husband. I don’t believe this, but I still do it.

I think of the lessons my daughter is learning
from watching me clean crumbs up after my husband
at lunch, the way I shut down and just take it when he accuses me
of not contributing anything to the family, the horrible things he calls me,
his constant harping on the state of my hair and my weight. I want
to put my hands over her ears, fill her head instead with

Disney images of princesses
being worshiped by handsome princes
of housecleaning mice and flowers
that never stop blooming.
but mostly I want her to know
about the princes.

 

The Spot

Each day with the sun, I am up, running to each
new special spot in the yard,
uncovering patches of
frozen leaves and snow to look

at the little green buds waiting to
burst forth with the spring. Six months under

the snow and I, too, am ready to leap
forth into the sunshine, to surround
myself with yellow Thunbergia, orange
poppies and frilly red peonies. I breathe warm air
on the tightly-
curled buds, wish them life.

pencil

Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in The Cape Rock, New Ohio Review, and Gargoyle. Her nonfiction publications include Music Theory for Dummies, Music Composition for Dummies, Guitar All-in-One for Dummies, Piano and Keyboard All-in-One for Dummies, Walking Twin Cities, Nordeast Minneapolis: A History, and Stillwater, Minnesota: A History.   Her newest poetry collections, A Perfect Day for Semaphore (Finishing Line Press),  I’m in a Place Where Reason Went Missing (Main Street Rag Publishing Co.), In This Place, She Is Her Own (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press), and A Wall to Protect Your Eyes (Pski’s Porch Publishing) will be out late 2018, with The Yellow Dot of a Daisy already out on Alien Buddha Press. Email: lalena[at]bitstream.net

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