By Kathleen Holliday
For Daphne
I hoped to burst into leaf
(Having read it worked for her)
My toes sunk deep into brown carpet,
Arms branching toward the ceiling –
A little green,
A thicker skin.
Did she turn in time
To feel his arms surround a slender bole –
Embracing her still-racing heart?
I believe she was the only one
who got away.
Copyright Holliday 2013
Kathleen Holliday lives on an island in the Salish Sea. Her writing has appeared in The Bellingham Review (forthcoming), The Blue Nib Literary Magazine (forthcoming), Cathexis Northwest Press, Common Ground Review (forthcoming), Poetry Super Highway, SHARK REEF, and Soundings Review. She is a graduate of Augsburg University, Minneapolis, and an erstwhile student of the Lyle's Bar School of Poetry. She is at work on her first full-length poetry collection.
All work by Kathleen Holliday
