Holly Day- Three Poems

            How It Ends

my hands wrap

around the room, tie us together

with open palms filled with sharp teeth

and words that keep you here.

outside is nothing but streetlights and hunger

sleazy bars and one-night stands

I have made myself so heavy here

you won’t be able to make me leave.

 

            Necropolis

They break away from me as soon as they can and run

to adulthood. I catch their hair in my hands, am left clutching

blond trimmings wrapped in scotch tape,

labeled with dates: first haircut, five years old, 13.

Each tiny bundle of hair is darker than the one that came before

as if they come from different children, they could have.

He stops by sometimes, a man with light brown hair

and bright blue eyes, brings me birthday presents,

flowers for Mother’s Day, has children himself

a wife that regards me with distrust and shame.  I am always

the same pale woman

sitting beneath the apple tree out back

watching flowers bloom and die

with frightening speed.

            Wednesday Night

           

I’m washing  my daughter’s hair and she tells me there’s a boy

She likes in school, he’s nine years old, he says he doesn’t like her

He told her best friend he doesn’t like her, she’s upset now and I

Don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I carefully

Rinse the shampoo out of her hair and resist the urge

To wrap my arms around her tiny, bony chest and hold her

Like I did when she was tiny, she wants me to give her some sort of

Womanly, adult advice and I am not ready for this. 



Short bio: Holly Day was born in Hereford, Texas, “The Town Without a Toothache.” She and her family currently live in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where she teaches writing classes at the Loft Literary Center. Her published books include the nonfiction books Music Theory for Dummies, Music Composition for Dummies, and Guitar All-in-One for Dummies, and the poetry books “Late-Night Reading for Hardworking Construction Men” (The Moon Publishing) and “The Smell of Snow” (ELJ Publications).