The Furious Gazelle

Literary as hell.

Tag: Holly Day

“The Giants,” a poem by Holly Day

the giants sleep as the snow comes down

covering their lumbering bodies in sheets

of frozen white. their warm breath

carves holes in the unbroken

rolling hills, melts snow into  runoff.


the giants sleep as the village children Continue reading

Poetry by Holly Day

All the Days After


days pass into weeks

and now even the flowers

are dead, curled brown in their vase like squirrel paws

little hands. I call

my husband

tell him to take

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