Holly Day

Ecdemomania

the leaves fall from the trees and I find that my shoes

won’t come off. I go out to get the newspaper, feel the chill on my face and

I don’t know where I am. Overheard, birds forge ahead with such determination that

I feel inspired to follow them south.

traffic snarls at me as I stumble after the birds, newspaper clutched

in my hand, bathrobe barely knotted closed. I would tell them

if they’d only roll down their windows and turn off their noisy car heaters

that I have learned something new this morning, that

there is no reason to stay here in a place that will soon be covered with snow, that we

can follow the paths laid out by buffalo and deer to safety, that

being able to sleep beneath the stars in the middle of December

without fear of frostbite or death

is worth losing all the ridiculous things our real lives have to offer. 

Holly Day has taught writing classes at the Loft Literary Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota, since 2000. Her poetry has recently appeared in Tampa Review, SLAB, and Gargoyle, while her newest nonfiction book, Tattoos FAQ, is coming out from Backbeat Books at the end of 2017.