Poetry

March 2, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

By

Holly Day

 

 

Soft Tissue

 

 

The mummy comes to my door, tells me

he’s moved in down the street, only now realized

we were neighbors, we should go out for coffee

sometime, we should catch up. Startled, not expecting

this shambling wreck of my past to just show up

on my doorstep as though nothing had ever

happened between us, I just nod my head

say that would be nice.

 

I shut the door and my daughter asks

who I was talking to, asks why

I look so funny, so strange. I say nothing

can’t find the words to explain that sometimes

the dead can crawl their way out through layers of dirt

breathe life back into their rotting limbs and

stop by for a visit, without any sort of warning,

no polite warning at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reflecting on the Night

 

 

he took her to the Parthenon he

laid her down among the headless trunks of women dead

2000 years or more, he held her down

until her watch stopped

 

and her breathing stopped and her fingers stopped

rooting and wriggling among the stones

her blue ’82 Porsche abandoned

just another relic in a place

filled with holes

 

 

 

 

 

 

Holly Day

Holly Day has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minnesota, since 2000. Her published books include ‘Music Theory for Dummies’, ‘Music Composition for Dummies’, ‘Guitar All-in-One for Dummies’, ‘Piano All-in-One for Dummies’, ‘Walking Twin Cities’, ‘Insider’s Guide to the Twin Cities’, ‘Nordeast Minneapolis: A History’, and ‘The Book Of’, while her poetry has recently appeared in ‘New Ohio Review’, ‘SLAB’, and ‘Gargoyle’. Her newest poetry book, ‘Ugly Girl‘, just came out from Shoe Music Press.

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