Sand

by Holly Day

close your eyes and
concentrate. swing with your arms and
not with your hands. imagine the ball without actually seeing it.
hit the ball only

when you know it’s actually
there. why would these words follow me all the way
out here, so far from any green field or
first base, in the desert in a tank with only
the sounds of frightened panic, chaos
in my ears? why would the voice of a coach
I had only in second
grade be in my head now, repeating the same old shit
against a backdrop of bombs and fire and death?

keep your eyes closed and don’t think about
anything else. follow the orders
in your head. If we get out of
this alive, I’ll buy you an ice cream cone. don’t
think, just
move. keep moving.

Hair Poem #1

by Holly Day

After the surgery, my sister came to visit
brought me a box full of wigs. We tried them on
together: the red curly one, the short blond one, the long one
black as coal, looked at our reflections in the mirror
at how different we looked with our new hair.

My husband took me home that night, joked
about all the different women I could be
with my boxful of glamorous wigs, how he
would have to get used to the idea that there
were so many new me’s. I laughed for him

could see some of the tension lift
from the corners of his eyes, told him I was just happy
to be going home.

A Story

by Holly Day

once upon a time
we were in love
and then we weren’t
time has turned my hair gray
and my skin gray
and my eyes blind.
I wonder how he’s aged.
I hear the dirt moving
far above my head
the shovel draws close.
pebbles fall on my face as
metal bites into wood.
I have composed
so many love letters
down here, in my head
started conversations
mumbled explanations
but I can’t say a word that he can hear.
I see his face in the opening
framed in moonlight and wet earth
if I could feel
I’d feel him pull the ring from my finger
the skin sliding off the bone with
the cold metal
if I could speak
I’d ask him about the new girlfriend
ask him
if she’s prettier than me.