Poem: Househole

By: Holly Day

househole

She watches him as he pulls the bodies off the wall,
the broken bones and smiles
over chicken-wire poses, crackling
fireplaces threatening the fragile taxidermist people
those sightless eyes.

She imagines the frame that will stretch her own corpse
someday, when she, too, has been ruined for him
too many times to prod numbly back into place. She can already feel
the change in his touch as he caresses her in bed
more like Braille than love, there are

broken bones here, too, and too much pretending
that nothing’s wrong, she sighs.

###

Holly Day has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota, since 2000. Her poetry has recently appeared in Tampa Review, SLAB, and Gargoyle, while her newest nonfiction book, Tattoos FAQ, is coming out from Backbeat Books at the end of 2017.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s