[lit-ideas] Sunday, Sunday [poem]
- From: "Erin Holder" <erin.holder@xxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Sun, 22 May 2005 02:51:44 -0400
She hung up her sundress that non-sunny Sunday,
glared at the books and said, look,
you want this.
She had everything in order.
She ordered a beer that last sunny Monday,
burried the books and said, hell,
I'll drink what I want.
There went her best laid plans.
She planned to regroup that next rueful Tuesday,
shook her head yes and said, no,
I just can't.
Two was the hour she begged him to call,
early Wedesday morning.
Trapped in the moment,
worn pale and spent,
out cold on the hard wooden floor.
That's where she later woke broke.
Broken she breakfasted midday,
dirty and parched, coffee and eggs,
slipping inside a new disarray.
It's only another year, with a sigh.
Sighing and swiveling nine to five Thursday,
around and around, around and around,
around and around, around and around,
around and around, around and around,
she wandered in circles on Friday.
Fiegned perk, forced a smile,
at the prospect of self-declared,
much deserved leisure.
They all ask her, what is the rush?
Rushing she swallowd and choked on the boredom,
sitting on Saturday,
sitting and twiddling,
hung up her sundress that non-sunny Sunday,
glared at the books and said, look,
you want this.
She had everything in order.
Erin
TO
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