Holly Painter
The First Hundred Days
I want cash in hand,
cheap burner phones,
a full tank of gas in the car,
detailed maps of the border,
a meeting point on the other side.
I want to make a plan now
while no one’s watching
but everyone says,
It’s not time for that yet.
You’re being paranoid.
My wife and I bathe the baby,
tug a comb through his tangles.
He lines up his yellow ducks,
green monkey, purple hippo
on the edge of the tub.
In The Handmaid’s Tale,
it never says what happens
to the Quaker family with
the bathtub full of toys
when Moira is captured.
We eat chili on the couch
watching a sitcom from 2014.
The writers didn’t know they’d
date the show by writing
characters who aren’t afraid.
I can’t sleep anymore.
She curls around me and
promises we won’t wait too long
but I worry we’ve forgotten
how to run.
I want cash in hand,
cheap burner phones,
a full tank of gas in the car,
detailed maps of the border,
a meeting point on the other side.
I want to make a plan now
while no one’s watching
but everyone says,
It’s not time for that yet.
You’re being paranoid.
My wife and I bathe the baby,
tug a comb through his tangles.
He lines up his yellow ducks,
green monkey, purple hippo
on the edge of the tub.
In The Handmaid’s Tale,
it never says what happens
to the Quaker family with
the bathtub full of toys
when Moira is captured.
We eat chili on the couch
watching a sitcom from 2014.
The writers didn’t know they’d
date the show by writing
characters who aren’t afraid.
I can’t sleep anymore.
She curls around me and
promises we won’t wait too long
but I worry we’ve forgotten
how to run.
Holly Painter lives with her wife and two children in Vermont, where she teaches writing and literature at the University of Vermont. She is the author of Excerpts from a Natural History (Titus Books, 2015), and My Pet Sounds Off: Translating the Beach Boys (Finishing Line Press, 2020). Holly is working on a book of cryptic crossword poems and an interview project about obsolete jobs. Read more at hollypainter.com.