Sunday, June 5, 2016

Two Poems by Holly Day

The Night 

we didn’t want to see the body
the smell was coming from her apartment
and our mother had shot herself.

I said I wanted proof she was dead
I asked, “Are you sure you burned the right body?”
the urn was so small. copper, tastefully etched

later, my brother and I got so drunk
we got into a fight, took it out to the street
I tried to hit him and missed.

In The Seat Beside Me 

I can feel the knots
the odd angles, the bones,
want to tell her to run, run, run
but deep inside, I know she will just go home.

She sits so close to me, pressed against her seat
the damage rippling under her thin skin
hands shaking.

--Holly Day

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