POEM
I was on a train
& an orchard was passing
by the windows
all those apples
I hope they were apples
because memory
is so very important to me
I thought about leaping
from the train
towards the branches
like an idiot
like a person who wishes
they were a dog
chasing the sun
I hope I become a dog
or a sun
or a blurry moment
next to a window
I should have leapt
or else continued to sit
where I never even started.
WRECK
She breaks open the accordion and crawls inside. The inside smells like treehouse schematics. Things that could have been simple. Each step she takes is a circus. Each step she takes is a child bleeding neon in the street. She can still be happy here. If she were to speak, it wouldn’t sound like herself. It would sound like a bird who has spent its entire life trying to become human, only so it can understand what the fuss is about.
Dalton Day is scared & an editor for FreezeRay Poetry. His poems have appeared in Heavy Feather Review, The Good Men Project, and Hypothetical, among others. He thinks you’re cute.