Sunday poem

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

when I was young I was content with 24 hours, I could write
plot and tension, broken hearts and climax—
the antihero

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

One thought on “Sunday poem

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s