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Dalton Day


You are raising a black hole beneath our bed. You’ve
named it Elijah. While we sleep, Elijah hums desperately
like a cat on the verge of a breakdown. In the morning,
you make toast and drop it into Elijah’s…mouth? Not a
crumb remains. On Valentine’s Day I bring you flowers.
Later, I catch you offering the petals to Elijah, who
greedily accepts them, and we both watch those pink and
white tongues disappear. I am devastated. I plan to
confront you about this, but before I can I hear you
crying. I go to you to see our bedroom is empty, except
for you and Elijah. You’re trying to feed Elijah your tears,
but Elijah is insatiable. The existential purring just
echoes. Our roof begins to cave. I take off my shoes. I
motion you to do the same. I wipe your tears, I smile, and
together the two of us follow our house into Elijah, like a
ferris wheel we will ride for the rest of our lives.


I am using my hands
to dig through red dirt & water

which chemistry tells me is mud
but childhood tells me is
giant blood

& I find you there
with your lavender eyes

how long has it been boy

you grew wings like the rest of us
I wasn’t supposed to find you
after a storm

but I am mistaken
this isn’t you


this is just your head
perfect & flowered in the spring air

just like I remember it
just like it was
when we were afraid of large things

I’ve used my hands in many ways
not all of them gentle
but enough
to know when to close eyes
that aren’t being used


Dalton Day is a terrified dog person & an editor for FreezeRay Poetry. His work has been published or featured in Hobart, Jellyfish, The Millions, & Banango Street, among others. He is the author of the collection Supernova Factory as well as Fake Knife, which is forthcoming from FreezeRay Press. He can be found on Tumblr & Twitter. Basically, he thinks everything is cute & won’t stop crying about it.