{"id":1659,"date":"2012-07-18T18:01:47","date_gmt":"2012-07-18T18:01:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=1659"},"modified":"2012-07-18T18:08:10","modified_gmt":"2012-07-18T18:08:10","slug":"holly-day-712","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/holly-day-712\/","title":{"rendered":"Holly Day, 7\/12"},"content":{"rendered":"

My Daughter<\/strong><\/p>\n

angel
\nshe rolls over and sighs in her sleep
\nsuch a tiny, slight sound
\nbut it fills my whole head.
\na song of distant cherubs
\nthe sound of the sun rising.<\/p>\n

she
\nreaches for me in the
\ndark, chubby hands
\ninstinctively
\ngrappling out in search of my older
\nworn palms, fingers that feel
\npurposeless without<\/p>\n

her. when did this happen
\nthis point in my life
\nwhere all I
\never wanted was
\nto have her?<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 Brand New<\/strong><\/p>\n

I threw away
\neverything that came
\nbefore he
\nwas in
\nmy life so
\nI could pretend
\nthat I was brand new
\njust like the baby
\nI held in
\nmy arms, just
\nlike the perfect
\nbaby that somehow
\ncame out of me<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Holly Day is a housewife and mother of two living in Minneapolis,<\/em>
\nMinnesota. Her poetry has recently appeared in Hawai’i Pacific Review, The<\/em>
\nOxford American, and Slipstream. Her book publications include Music<\/em>
\nComposition for Dummies, Guitar-All-in-One for Dummies, and Music Theory for<\/em>
\nDummies, which has recently been translated into French, Dutch, Spanish,<\/em>
\nRussian, and Portuguese.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My Daughter angel she rolls over and sighs in her sleep such a tiny, slight sound but it fills my whole head. a song of distant cherubs the sound of the sun rising. she reaches for me in the dark, chubby hands instinctively grappling out in search of my older worn palms, fingers that feel […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1659","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nHolly Day, 7\/12 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/holly-day-712\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Holly Day, 7\/12 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"My Daughter angel she rolls over and sighs in her sleep such a tiny, slight sound but it fills my whole head. a song of distant cherubs the sound of the sun rising. she reaches for me in the dark, chubby hands instinctively grappling out in search of my older worn palms, fingers that feel […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/holly-day-712\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2012-07-18T18:08:10+00:00\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"1 minute\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/holly-day-712\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/holly-day-712\/\",\"name\":\"Holly Day, 7\/12 - 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