Friday, 24 January 2020

The Vocation that has Chosen Me

by Holly Day

There will never be enough time to catalog
all of the dreams of the things in my yard
in my house: the fat squirrels that roost in the trees outside
the sparrows that peck at insects in the air conditioner
the mice that live behind my stove, the spider curled in wait
in the corner of my room.

They whisper their stories in Morse code raps
clicking mandibles and tiny, clawed feet, demanding
I stay up just one more hour, one more hour to trap
their thoughts with my pen, in words I can remember.

When I dream, it’s of dust mites and fleas
bits of cheese left out on the counter, the warmth
of the summer sun, an explosion of flowers
the songs of the stars and a terror
of vacuums. There will never be enough time

to transcribe my cat’s demands, the hopes and dreams
of the blind voles in my basement
all of these things I need to write.

* * * * *

Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction, Grain, and The Tampa Review. Her newest poetry collections are In This Place, She Is Her Own (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press), A Wall to Protect Your Eyes (Pski’s Porch Publishing), Folios of Dried Flowers and Pressed Birds (, Where We Went Wrong (Clare Songbirds Publishing), Into the Cracks (Golden Antelope Press), and Cross Referencing a Book of Summer (Silver Bow Publishing), while her newest nonfiction books are Music Theory for Dummies and Tattoo FAQ.


  1. Delightful, radiating boundless irony and joy.

  2. From the days that Holly Day submitted poetry to my friends' and my fanzine (IN*SIT) in 1990 (and we published it, not being fools, but it took a while to get that next issue out) through the decades, I've always been gratified to see more of her work, and to see her go from strength to strength. Thanks to you all, including Matt for pointing out this post.