day poem

by dm gillis

where it isn’t Saturday it is Sunday
and people are ok with that
because the universe has a preference
for round things circling round things and
days are the result

short ones and long ones and the
days that make you cry

when I was young
I could write a whole day in 24 hours
plot and tension, broken hearts and climax —
the antihero
with his neurosis in his hip pocket

now writing a day takes only hours
and they fall on my floor like leaves