DALTON DAY 

 
 

 

Spooky Action at a Distance

Doesn’t matter how the pebble
got into the glass slipper, just 

that nobody was harmed in the
making of this infomercial for 

glass slippers. It’s too late for us
to pretend we’re asleep, that’s 

ok, we’re mummies. Yesterday
I recoiled after suspecting that 

power tools don’t have to make
that much noise. I’m glad you 

were there. With your knowing
glances, so much like plankton 

that no synonym exists. Circles
get drawn on the ground more 

than I thought. Shocking, but
true. I was here before. I think. 

 

Spooky Action at a Distance

Sir, you must move your car
out of the path of falling debris 

though it’s understood that
your priority is finding out why 

you feel so the opposite of out-
of-place near crumbling cliffs. 

Try it with one breath, next.
I joined the Gravity Keeps Me 

Grounded Committee to share
the good word, not to argue 

about the authenticity of man-
made lakes, the authenticity 

of what behoove should mean
is a different story. Before she 

died, my grandmother hollered
at me to look both ways before 

crossing. There. I gave you an
example. I’ll represent myself. 

 

Spooky Action at a Distance

We probably didn’t need
this many moths to scare 

our mothers into thinking
we’d become porchlights, 

I’m just saying. A hole in
my sweater, a hole in the 

big ol’ atmosphere. Clear
out the attic & the tree’ll 

fit fine. Dandy, if we dare.
Numbers have done little, 

to be dishonest. Count the
times the floor has slipped 

your mind. Permission to
drill through it. They’re 

calling for a frost tonight.
We’ll look unbearably real. 

 

Spooky Action at a Distance

for Margaret Hamilton

The calculations are correct.
That is indeed a jackhammer 

& not a wind chime. A sky, &
not a reflection on those who 

once filled our lives w/ such
logical music. It seems like a 

perfect time to blink, with the
intermission from our game 

of rock-paper-scissors & all.
The stakes couldn’t be higher, 

though here we are. Walking
toward—that’s it. We’re just 

walking. To know more than
that, woah. Can you imagine? 

 
 

Dalton Day is the recipient of a James A. Michener fellowship, as well as the author of Exit, Pursued (Plays Inverse) & several chapbooks. Their poems have appeared in The Offing, Columbia Poetry Review, Matador Review & Shabby Doll House, among others. They live in Atlanta.