Days of the Week
Monday is not a plot
but a beginning—
Monday ordinarily implies Tuesday;
in plague times, it is a beautiful word, a wish.
At any time, without Tuesday
Monday would be a large hall holding
a small voice depending on echoes,
so there is Tuesday, and no matter how challenging,
how bloody or relaxing, Wednesday follows
like an athlete in full stride towards
Thursday—the
excitement of long nights
a couple of days away and a chance for
yearning ahead, heading into
Friday—where the
eagles fly far away from gray.
Someone’s
going to buy a round or two, and
everything will be red and gentle and spilling to
Saturday Sunday the Weekend
and let’s
get lost
or lustily enjoy bed and board—
slipping from outfits, too fashionable.
But should madness leap its boundary
and Monday indeed not be followed
by all those lovely names that end in day,
then let Monday be the lengthy kind
with its seconds ticking like hours and
each hour replicating an eon
and sleep just an idea entertained by the waking.
