Two Poems by Dalton Day

A POSTER ON THE STREET WITH A PICTURE OF A DOG ON IT BUT INSTEAD OF LOST DOG IT SAYS LONELY DOG

You worry too much is my favorite punchline. Literally. I’ve got knuckles buried all over the place. Gardening is gentle. But I hold the shovel too tight. I get splinters. I look like I didn’t know to pull back when bitten. However. I pulled back before I was taught the word teeth. I was taught the word grow by running into the corners as I left a room. I am growing! I have teeth! When I finally pull my hands out of the dirt, they will have little flowers on them. They will look like seafoam, sliding right back off. But that won’t be for a little while. Perhaps, even a little while longer.

 

 

IF THERE IS A SONG THAT MAKES A HUMAN BEING LESS OF A MACHINE & MORE OF A GHOAT THAN “PROUD MARY,” I HAVEN’T HEARD IT, I’LL NEVER HEAR IT

Some say
to talk about the sun
is to dilute its

importance. My
shoulders. They crack
& then a way out

comes out. Paws.
Intestines. I am blood-
folded,

which is to say,
dilute me
a little bit. Which is to

say, I am ok here.
This morning I saw a
one-legged bird.

I had to squint to see it,
the sun was so bright.

But I did.

I did see it.

 

Dalton Day is the author of Actual Cloud, and MFA candidate in The New Writers Project at UT Austin, & Pushcart nominee. His poems have been featured in Columbia Poetry Review, Everyday Genius, PANK, & Alien Mouth.

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