by Holly Day
fingers reach out, pull in, calling
operculum slits nonexistent from the
wall. seamless space
eye against the peephole, how
ophitic, pressed against this corner, many
waiting, slim arms across her light
chest, wings lying still, bulbs
unborn light
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Holly Day is a journalism instructor living in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with her husband and two children. Her most recent nonfiction books are Music Theory for Dummies, Music Composition for Dummies, and Walking Twin Cities. Her poetry and fiction has most recently appeared in Willow Review, The Blotter, and Pinyon. |
WILLOWS WEPT REVIEW 