like pickles or tomatoes in clear glass jars
tiny strips of paper scotch-taped to the lids
first and last names covered in a thin sheen of
sticky dust. Sometimes, she arranges the jars
alphabetically, sometimes by last name, sometimes
by first, a confusing mix of ancient and newer loves
young faces mixed with old. Sometimes
she lines the jars up by date, from the very first kiss
to the last bad blind grope in the back of a car
but that arrangement always makes her sad, reminds her
of how hard it is for an older woman
to find love.
About Holly Day:
Holly Day’s poetry has recently appeared in The Cape Rock, New Ohio Review, and Gargoyle. 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.), and The Yellow Dot of a Daisy (Alien Buddha Press).