I have become an animal that needs to be fed liquor
in order to proceed through the cold. Invisible herdsmen
pull me up against the aches in my body, pour whiskey down my throat
tell me it’s just a few steps more, then everything will be better
and I can stop, not to die, but to sleep.
Sunrise is a lie that promises a full day
Monday is a lie about what can be done in a week.
Time races by much too fast these days. I drag my feet against time
dig my heels in wherever I can find purchase
but it’s no good.
HOLLY DAY has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota, since 2000. Her published books include Walking Twin Cities, Music Theory for Dummies, Ugly Girl, and The Yellow Dot of a Daisy. Her newest poetry collection, A Perfect Day for Semaphore (Finishing Line Press) will be out late 2018.