the river cracks awake in the middle of the night, sounds like something
falling inside the house, sounds like the dog/kid broke something. I get up
so he doesn’t have to, stomp out into the living room bathed in bright moonlight, see
the dog curled up by the front door, oblivious to whatever woke us up.
From the living room, I can hear more ice breaking off, feel the river waking up
Pushing trapped branches and dead deer off to the side banks, determined
To become an unhindered body once more. From the bedroom, my husband asks
What’s going on. I don’t know where to start.
Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in Asimov’s Science Fiction, Grain, and Harvard 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 (Cyberwit.net), 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.