None of my clothes have sequins.
Thus, the world is one
of great sadness and great possibility
in equal measure. We,
the ones who wear our clothes,
love to measure.
We measure how high
we were thrown as children
by a person we trusted.
Three me’s worth, at least.
I got good at the changes in air,
would use my lungs accordingly,
like abandoned things
who would never abandon another.
In the mirror in the morning,
I practice what I could not master.
One eye closes, one eye dims.
Dalton Day is the author of a collection of plays, Exit, Pursued (Plays Inverse), and a preschool teacher. His poems have been featured in Peach Magazine and Matador Review as well as by NPR’s Invisibilia. He can be found at tinyghosthands.com.