By Holly Day
Don't start looking for me yet. I'm not quite hidden
deep enough for flashlights to pass over, to stand the scrutiny
of microscopes and dental probes. Leave me
some measure of privacy, one unopened door
with a lock on the inside and a chair in the corner
some place where I can hang up my own pictures
without critique or approval.
I can take care of it myself.
I am in still in control here.
I know exactly what I'm doing.
Just don't come in until I'm ready, until
all the razor blades have been chastised and broken and slipped
crumpled under the door, until all the names
of people I will not kill myself for have been used in angst-ridden poetry
until the photographs not melted or burned or riddled with bullet holes
are framed and hung up properly
then you may come in and sit next to me.
But don't sit too close.
.
I'm a housewife and mother living in Minneapolis,
Minnesota, and have been writing and publishing poetry, fiction, and nonfiction
for just over 15 years. My poetry has most recently appeared in Limestone
Circle, Bare Bone, and Little Engines. My first book, The Insiders' Guide
to the Twin Cities, just came out from The Globe Pequot Press this year.
|