Holaday Mason: Summoned to Perform at All Hours of the Night

Holaday Mason
SUMMONED TO PERFORM AT ALL HOURS OF THE NIGHT

It’s so late I can hear my grandmother,
Margery, slap an ace-high straight down
on linoleum, light a Doral, become smoke.

We are so wet again, our pool hair swims
across cushions. Is it fever or is it sex?

The hum of a large horse fly scrolls
illegibly on the ceiling. Sleep fills
with ravens, their shattering blackness

mocks my inertia & yes, it’s far
too costly to fly anywhere, so
this summer we travel in dreams.

The hourglass in my throat tells me
time is running out as my dead
grandmother stands like a mummy
drinking red wine at her kitchen sink.

She shifts weight to relieve bone spurs—
wills me her name, her cravings
& hunchback, goads me to love
glitter & gore in equal measure.

I light a candle, fix her in silhouettes
that drip over my skin.

You smell so good even fast asleep,
your eyes tumbling like the unborn
under lids crisscrossed with lilac streams—

the waters we come from. The waters we are.
Margery, you call me & no one else ever has.

This summer we dream ravens.

Inertia

drips over my skin.

The hourglass in my throat

fills with the waters we are.

Holaday Mason is the author of six collections: Towards the Forest, Dissolve, (New Rivers Press), The Red Bowl: A Fable in Poems, (Red Hen Press), The “She” Series: A Venice Correspondence (What Books Press, with Sarah Maclay), The Weaver’s Body (Tebot Bach Press), As If Scattered ( Giant Claw Press), and two chapbooks: Interlude, and Light Spilling From its Own Cup. Nominated for several Pushcarts and widely published, she served as co-editor for Beyond Baroque’s anthology Echo 681, where she leads writing workshops. Currently, she is the poetry editor for the online art and poetry magazine Furious Pure. Find more at www.holadaymason.com, holadaymasonphotography.com.