Coming Home from the Hospital. A Poem by Holly Day

 

She bumps against me in the seat and I wonder

what would happen if I took her, this girl

too young to be riding on the bus by herself

too young to be so close to so many strangers.

I smile and scoot over to make room for her to sit

 

imagine she’s my daughter, that I have a daughter

wonder if the other passengers already think she’s here with me.

I press myself up against the latched window

wonder what our life would be like together

I could pop the emergency release

grab her and run.

 
 

 
 
Bio:
Once again, winter’s almost gone and I don’t know where the time went. The trellis out back is covered with a lace of iced-over morning glory leaves and snow, and the little field mice are running rampant through the walls of my house, settling in to escape the coldest part of the year.
 
Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in Plainsongs, The Long Islander, and The Nashwaak Review. Her newest poetry collections are A Perfect Day for Semaphore (Finishing Line Press), In This Place, She Is Her Own (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press), A Wall to Protect Your Eyes (Pski’s Porch Publishing), I’m in a Place Where Reason Went Missing (Main Street Rag Publishing Co.), The Yellow Dot of a Daisy (Alien Buddha Press), Folios of Dried Flowers and Pressed Birds (Cyberwit.net), and Where We Went Wrong (Clare Songbirds Publishing)
 
 
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author. See Robin performing his work Performance (University of Leeds) and his latest Collected Poems Volume at Next-Arrivals

Strength. A Poem by Holly Day

 
 
Light pours in through a thin slit of a window
blood red sunset illuminates silver
bells, golden chalices, the empty
half-orb of a sterile baptismal font, black robes
casually tossed over the back of a chair,
a pair of wool slippers half-hidden by folds of cloth.
Faces of concrete angels strain from the walls, echoed
in smooth porcelain, glistening oil on cracked canvas.
Worn Persian rug covers hard
stone, fibers holding still the ancient trace
of sweat from hands straining to hold the threads
in place on a room-sized loom, invisibly
imprinted by knees crawling after dropped things
wanted things, lost things. Tiny pile of mouse droppings
in the shadow of a lost corner, they want things, too.
 
 
Holly Day has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis , Minnesota , since 2000. Her poetry has recently appeared in Tampa Review, SLAB, and Gargoyle, and her published books include Walking Twin Cities, Music Theory for Dummies, and Ugly Girl.
 
 
 
Robin Ouzman Hislop is Editor of Poetry Life and Times his publications include All the Babble of the Souk and Cartoon Molecules collected poems and Key of Mist the recently published Tesserae translations from Spanish poets Guadalupe Grande and Carmen Crespo  visit Aquillrelle.com/Author Robin Ouzman Hislop about author.  See Robin performing his work Performance (Leeds University) .

Fox in the Snow. A Poem by Holly Day

 

Blood red in the snow, a tiny spray of drops

an arc of unjust accusations frozen in time.

This place is more oil than air, echoes

rusted metal teeth snapping taut on a hand full of claw.
 

This spot, here, where her foot landed, where the trap is sprung.

She is white against the snow, like soft spikes of thin mercury, liquid,

tufts of white fur glowing bright against the brutal iron clasp

her nose quivers black and tiny, sees me, knows who I am.
 
 
 
 
bio picture
 
 
 
Short bio: Holly Day has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis , Minnesota , since 2000. Her poetry has recently appeared in Oyez Review, SLAB, and Gargoyle, while her recently published books include Music Theory for Dummies (3rd edition), Piano All-in-One for Dummies, The Book Of, and Nordeast Minneapolis: A History.

 

robin@artvilla.com
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Pen Pal. A Poem by Holly Day

 
 

My friend has been divided into perforated sheets of new stories

I tell her how I’m pretty here despite having being quartered myself

about the monsters that are loose in my bedroom again

the obscenities that come to the table at lunch.
 

“I guess I liked to be scared. There’s no other reason for my brutal sophistry

and tearing my hair out in mock terror is fun

and ripping my brain into confetti is fun

I enjoyed nightmares when I was a child, and this where I belong.”
 

Huge fish with sharp teeth complain about their weight

tell stories and poems that have been gnawed in half.

My last nightmare was almost as thin as I used to be.

I tell her how I’m pretty here when she sends me pictures of her:
 

Posing on the beach with nubile Afrikaners.

Washing oil off of penguins and seals.

In bed with her new cat.
 
 

bio picture
 
 
There’s nothing quite as wonderful as seeing the end of a long winter in Minnesota . The birdfeeder is busy with sparrows and warblers, robins are nesting in the back yard trees, and tulips and daffodils have pushed themselves up all the way up through the moldering piles of last-year’s leaves to explode in a frenzy of yellow, purple, and every shade of pink and red. It’s just warm enough that I can walk my dog in the morning without a jacket, but still cool enough that it’s not complete torture to work in my tiny, windowless office in the basement.
 
 
Short bio: Holly Day has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis , Minnesota , since 2000. Her poetry has recently appeared in Oyez Review, SLAB, and Gargoyle, while her recently published books include Music Theory for Dummies (3rd edition), Piano All-in-One for Dummies, The Book Of, and Nordeast Minneapolis: A History.
 
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