I tell myself that just over the next hill, around the next corner
is a world of magic, some proof of God, a rip in time
something impossible is just moments away. I take one more step
towards that impossible destiny, then stop myself because
if it’s not there I won’t be able to go on.
I have turned my back and walked the other way
from more miracles than I can count
from time travelers asking for directions and the exact date
from talking alley cats, holy gurus reincarnated as sparrows
mysterious doorways that open into another world.
I know in my heart that they’re there and that’s enough, I don’t
turn the corner to confront the mystery and find out
I’ve been deluding myself this whole time
I don’t want to know that there isn’t actually something wonderful
just over the next hill.
Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in Plainsongs, The Long Islander, and The Nashwaak Review. Her newest poetry collections are A Perfect Day for Semaphore (Finishing Line Press), In This Place, She Is Her Own (Vegetarian Alcoholic Press), A Wall to Protect Your Eyes (Pski’s Porch Publishing), I’m in a Place Where Reason Went Missing (Main Street Rag Publishing Co.), The Yellow Dot of a Daisy (Alien Buddha Press), Folios of Dried Flowers and Pressed Birds (Cyberwit.net), and Where We Went Wrong (Clare Songbirds Publishing).