Five Poems by Holly Day

 

Remember

 

When you unearth a corpse and it’s still fresh, and you see it writhing 

with maggots and larvae and nymphs moments from exploding into flies 

 

remember: this is their home, and you’re as much a disturbance to them 

as they are to you. Imagine the revulsion of a salesman stepping into your home 

unexpectedly, on a day you decided, fuck it, I’m not picking up dishes 

or doing laundry, or vacuuming or cleaning up after anyone but myself today. 

That salesman would probably wear the same expression on their face 

 

as you are wearing now, spade in hand, peering into the dark of fresh earth 

pots of peonies and roses waiting to be dropped in, completely forgotten 

the unexpected flash of white knobbed fingers, a deflated eyelid,  

all those unanswered phone calls explained.

  

 

 

Vacation

 

The first few hours after I get there, all I watch is porn 

not for me, but for any lingering ghosts in the room.  

I barely watch the ass-filled screen, instead 

busy myself with sweeping out the cabin 

rearranging furniture so I can work 

pour myself a drink 

 

Next, I put on some old bluegrass 

to go with the candle on the desk 

something that doesn’t drown out the thunderstorm  

fills just a single corner of the room. 

 

I figures the ghosts in here 

have been left alone long enough  

that they deserve some good music, some good company 

they should be able to see what people do in the world outside the door 

because it can’t be all just me, sitting at this desk,  

drinking and  

wearing way too many clothes.

  

Closing Off the Dead Tenant’s Space 

 

We push all the furniture up against the walls 

to make room for the ghost, remove 

anything fragile or pretty to keep it from being destroyed.  

We carefully tape cardboard over the windowpanes  

to prevent broken glass from falling out onto the sidewalk below 

where it might hurt someone who just doesn’t understand 

 

what’s going on here. 

 

When we’re done, we close the door on the room 

carefully tape up the cracks around the frame 

seal it tight. Later, we’ll block the door entirely 

close up the space with drywall or bricks 

or just cover it with layers of newspaper and paste,  

depends on the time we have available

 

 

 

Places for Men

 

No women are allowed on Mount Anthos in Greece.  

It’s just a place for men, and male chickens, and male dogs 

eggs and dairy have to be brought in from the village below 

because not even cows are allowed near the monastery. 

 

You know the people down in the village make fun of those monks 

and their pretense at celibacy 

and their fear of women 

and it goes without saying that those dogs up there 

are busy humping one another. 

They don’t care that there aren’t any bitches up there, 

Neither do the monks.

  

 

 

Sour Grapes

 

The school bus rumbles by and the dog begins wagging her tail. 

She has so many memories of waiting at the bus stop 

for my children, and the neighbours’ children, to pour out of the open doors 

hands reached out to pet and hug, high-pitched voices chattering in delight 

but the bus doesn’t stop here anymore.  

 

She and I both watch the bus stumble down the street, turn the corner 

disappear, without dropping off a single happy, noisy child 

leaving us sad and empty. “It’s okay,” I say out loud, pretend it’s for the dog 

tug her leash and head back to the house, it’s time to start the day. 

I imagine there are greater things waiting for me 

 

than getting to hear about the first day of school 

some emergency project that needs my help right now,  

that there are things more important than being a shoulder to cry on,  

that my day doesn’t revolve around signing permission slips 

volunteering for field trips, I have better things to do with my day now.

  

Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in Analog SF, Cardinal Sins, and New Plains Review, and her published books include Music Theory for Dummies and Music Composition for Dummies. She currently teaches classes at The Loft Literary Center in Minnesota, Hugo House in Washington, and The Muse Writers Center in Virginia.