{"id":12971,"date":"2020-05-11T07:06:46","date_gmt":"2020-05-11T05:06:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=12971"},"modified":"2020-05-10T22:09:00","modified_gmt":"2020-05-10T20:09:00","slug":"poems-by-holly-day-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/?p=12971","title":{"rendered":"poems by Holly Day"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Arrogance<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

it ought to have altered my existence. I observed him bent above his composition, hours consumed informing minuscule granules<\/p>\n

of tinted sand of his convoluted plans on the soil, sketching cobalt flowers,<\/p>\n

scarlet flowers, a single colossal blossom obscuring the dried, packed earth.<\/p>\n

It was so lovely,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I would have given everything to be able to roll it up in its entirety<\/p>\n

and take it back home with me, but the storm stole it minutes after<\/p>\n

it was finished, spreading fantastic ribbons of contrasting dye<\/p>\n

against one another until there was nothing left but flawed, vaguely<\/p>\n

grayer smudges striping the blond sameness of the barren sand. the tiny man<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

rose to his feet, beamed at me as though he had intended on the storm,<\/p>\n

and walked slowly away. it should have changed my life. I should have<\/p>\n

taken it away with me his lack of creative arrogance, his readiness to just<\/p>\n

let his day evaporate in the quest for a small moment of exquisite beauty,<\/p>\n

and just the beauty of that one small moment.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I was wholly determined to go home and expunge the whole<\/p>\n

of what I had ever composed that day, that week, that whole<\/p>\n

crazy year of my life, overflowing as I was<\/p>\n

with the little man\u2019s palpable happiness at the creation of something<\/p>\n

so temporary. I figured that taking joy in just the act of writing<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

should be adequate for me, too. I sat in my tent for hours, gazing at page<\/p>\n

after page of hurriedly-scribbled poems, annotations,<\/p>\n

fictions, tomes almost started and some almost finished<\/p>\n

and couldn\u2019t do it. I failed. I wanted to. I would like to be released<\/p>\n

of this baggage of miscellaneous papers,<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

to set fire to all my petty dreams, disperse the pieces of me that are frozen<\/p>\n

in those notes<\/p>\n

but I haven\u2019t the power to set them all free.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Tooth Fairy Dreams of an Apocalypse<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It\u2019s all there for free now, all there for her<\/p>\n

swooping down in plain sight, in<\/p>\n

broad daylight, hands out in hungry claws pulling<\/p>\n

all those lovely teeth loose. No more need for<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

fancy hairdos, or sparkly<\/p>\n

pink dresses, or even<\/p>\n

the crystal scepter,\u00a0 now that there are no more<\/p>\n

insomniac children left to catch her in the act.<\/p>\n

She can wear anything she<\/p>\n

wants now, jeans, a t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, a<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

food-splattered muumuu, or even nothing at all.<\/p>\n

Nobody\u2019s left to see her do her work, tugging<\/p>\n

stubborn teeth free from blast-cleaned skulls<\/p>\n

with a rusty set of pliers, a<\/p>\n

string tied to an anvil, an old claw hammer.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It\u2019s all there for free now. No more<\/p>\n

dollars to leave for teeth.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

My Husband Comments On How I\u2019ve Let Myself Go <\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

he tells me I remind him<\/p>\n

of a beached whale lying in<\/p>\n

bed in the morning I close my<\/p>\n

eyes and imagine myself<\/p>\n

being picked apart by the claws of<\/p>\n

tiny sand crabs burrowed into<\/p>\n

by thin red beach worms<\/p>\n

gobbets of flesh ripped<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

from my carcass by flocks of sea gulls<\/p>\n

luring even the raccoons down<\/p>\n

from the stubby forest<\/p>\n

following the shore. he asks me<\/p>\n

if I feel ashamed of myself<\/p>\n

and I don\u2019t answer because<\/p>\n

I feel dead already I\u2019m<\/p>\n

too busy<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

imagining the shock of<\/p>\n

girl scout troops stumbling across<\/p>\n

my massive corpse in the shallows<\/p>\n

the feel of their tiny hands<\/p>\n

on my body joined by the larger hands<\/p>\n

of Greenpeace workers and passing<\/p>\n

tree huggers as they try<\/p>\n

to push me back<\/p>\n

into the water<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

hoping somehow that this half-eaten<\/p>\n

cold and lifeless body might<\/p>\n

magically come back to<\/p>\n

life and swim away if only<\/p>\n

they could get me back<\/p>\n

into the water.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Arrogance   it ought to have altered my existence. I observed him bent above his composition, hours consumed informing minuscule granules of tinted sand of his convoluted plans on the soil, sketching cobalt flowers, scarlet flowers, a single colossal blossom obscuring the dried, packed earth. It was so lovely,<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1420,77],"tags":[1421,1123,1038],"class_list":["post-12971","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-63","category-english","tag-egophobia-63","tag-english","tag-holly-day"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6DakB-3nd","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12971","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12971"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12971\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12972,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12971\/revisions\/12972"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12971"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=12971"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=12971"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}