She squeezes him tight and he fills her with larvae
destined to pupate, develop wings and molt
shatter her skin like the wood of an old door frame
in their attempt to break free and fly far away.
But it will only hurt for a moment, and too far down the road
to worry about—for now, he comforts her with pictures of kittens
tells her stories of his own childhood, how he can’t wait to feel
butterflies beating under her skin, how he’ll never leave her alone.
She wonders silently about scorpion children
babies who devour their mother as she sleeps
boys who grow up to be psychopaths and murderers
girls who grow up to be beaten and lost.
Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in Plainsongs, The Long Islander, and The Nashwaak Review. Her newest poetry collections are A Perfect Day for Semaphore (Finishing Line Press), In This Place, She Is Her Own (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press), A Wall to Protect Your Eyes (Pski’s Porch Publishing),I'm in a Place Where Reason Went Missing (Main Street Rag Publishing Co.), The Yellow Dot of a Daisy (Alien Buddha Press), Folios of Dried Flowers and Pressed Birds (Cyberwit.net), and Where We Went Wrong (Clare Songbirds Publishing).
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