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Three Poems from Holly Day

 

Trust

such profound pronouncements on personal
disfigurement, I wonder if once
you were pretty, perhaps, prepubescent, a child
angry at adults who adored the doll
with all the bumps and scars on the inside.
did friendly hands, friendly eyes, friendly voices
chuck you beneath your chubby chin
look into innocent eyes and lovingly only
see a happy, beautiful baby?
struggling to stifle the screams, the dreams,
labored breath clinging to damp, dying lungs,
I wonder, when you were young, with this limp,
these twisted bones, did loving voices coax you along
give you hope?



Violins

Always, always had it worse. One of my bad days
Is a minute in your life. One minute. Experience means nothing
next to your daydreams. Nothing is sacred in your head.
Our love is not a church,
because if it was
We’d be draped head to toe in white robes, always
And not just that one day.
sometimes I think I’m lost without your sickness
a hard rule to set my own life against
I have tried so hard to smooth over rough edges
that I did not cause and can not heal. If our love was a church,
you could look into my eyes, and I into yours
wouldn’t have to do everything with the lights off,
fists clenched tight.



Underground Tubers

sometimes when I’m madly masturbating
I think about what it would be like
to be a man, to have a cock, this thick
hard piece of throbbing rubbery meat
swinging to and fro, bumping into things
insinuating itself into everything from love to lunch
my crazy imaginary penis has this need to
be pushed into things, pulled out of things
unclogging drains and investigating cisterns
waving traffic through intersections and
rescuing crying kittens treed in trees
and sometimes when I’m madly masturbating
I imagine the ecstasy of shoving that hard cock
into something alive, not just funnel cakes filled with fresh cream
not just flannel hats or leather shoes or scotch tape rolls
but something twitchy, and warm, and wet
what it would be like to ram and thrust
instead of always being the catcher.


Holly Day is a housewife and mother of two living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Her poetry has recently appeared in Hawai’i Pacific Review, The Oxford American, and Slipstream. Her book publications include Music Composition for Dummies, Guitar- All-in-One for Dummies, and Music Theory for Dummies, which has recently been translated into French, Dutch, Spanish,
Russian, and Portuguese.


                                                                            
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