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Poetry By
  Holly Day

Published on: 6/11/2012
Wednesday's Mail

Suddenly, I know what is in the package. It's
another piece of child, sent to drive me crazy. The package
is just the right size to hold either
a bunch of little bits
or one big piece, a torso, perhaps,
a well-cushioned head.
I gently pick the package up and put it
in the spare bedroom with the rest of the packages
the tiny finger-sized boxes
the still-sealed shoeboxes concealing bare, uncalloused feet

The rest of the mail sits waiting to be sorted through
I flip through pizza coupons, form invitations
to local beheadings, a flyer advertising the opening
of a new Baptist church in my neighborhood.
At the very bottom of the stack is a large manila envelope,
thick with paperwork. I open it, curiously, not
recognizing the handwriting, and watch in confusion
as photographs of people I don't know
pour out onto the floor.

Published on: 6/11/2012
The Clever People in My Bedroom

A man's voice in the other room
speaks of impeaching the President
as dust settles on the sill around
my hand, making a perfect imprint
on the termite-gnawed wood.

I move my hand to look at the shadow
left behind, the five thin lines
that my fingers left behind, radiating
like the spires of a crown
around the thicker pulp of my hand.

A woman's voice speaks now
of the weather: fair with chance of rain
later on, highs in the seventies
for the rest of the week.
"Now a word from our sponsors," a song
about dish soap and deodorant.

Published on: 6/11/2012
The Spot

and all the while I was talking and singing to the spot I
imagined the baby slept inside me, the reality
was that the baby had died two weeks before, unknowingly,
my husband had been sleeping with his hand over the tiny
gravesite for a whole two weeks not knowing the body inside
could no longer feel him my son had greeted me with a smile

each morning with a kiss on that spot and "Good morning, Mommy!
Good morning, Baby!" there was nothing there to hear his sweet happy
voice all I know is that when the thing that once lived in that spot in my
body refused my silent entreaties to have a heart beat, be alive for my
too-quiet doctor, still waiting, couldn't have been more surprised
couldn't have felt more cheated, could have just closed my eyes and died.

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