Poetry by Holley Hyler

           Dan Finnen



Foreign

The gray people wear their crisp white shirts,
then I come in all purple and moon-kissed
and then they are busy trying not to look busy
deciding if they want anything to do with that or not.

The gray people shade their eyes against the sun-kissed,
golden people but they like the moon-kissed people
even less.

Maybe it is the moonstone we wear
pulling the tears right out of our eye sockets
or maybe we just need to go back to the moon.

The car outside Starbucks is idling and two
marines walk in, and we are busy trying to look
like we are not busy looking at each other
and I look away to see if the car is still idling.

The gray people taught me that it is shameful
to be so purple. I see glimpses of purple on them, sometimes,
but never enough to feel at home.

Maybe holding another purple hand would not
reverse gravity and send the tears back into my eye sockets.
Maybe I just need to go back to the moon.




Reverse SAD

My summer memories feel like
the sound ice makes beneath tires.

Long summer days are for desolation;
long winter nights are for dreaming.

It was always sunny in LA,
but I felt none of his warmth.

He never told me to be safe
until I drove in the snow.




Through a Glass, Lightly

Falsity stirs a cacophony
that sometimes brings
tears to my eyes.

Finite body, finite bullshit, I remind myself.

“I’m well, thanks,” you say,
deadpan,
and the clamor inside me begins.

But what can I do?

You say goodnight after we talk about nothing,
again, and I have no choice
but to let you go, again.



​
Channeled

you are coming out of my fingers
comforting me like he won’t.
saying that I want to cross over
and join you

is me playing the “I want to take
my toys and go home” card
but is true, at the same time.

you are coming out of my crown
talking to me like he won’t.
he is a drug that helps me forget
I’ve lost my purpose

and it takes my withdrawals
from him to help me remember
and then you come in.

thank you for not asking
what the hell you are doing here.
I want to cross over
and join you

but this can be enough, if it must.

Bio: Holley Hyler has been published in Adelaide, Buck Off Magazine, Rebelle Society, and The Urban Howl. She was a finalist in the 2017 Adelaide Literary Awards with her essay, “Nonlinear.” She is passionate about sixties music and the guitar. You can find more of her work on her website, holleyhyler.com.

---