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Poem of Wednesday

2 replies

Mothernature · 06/04/2005 11:04

Somehow or other
I'm stuck in Wednesday
and can't get out.
You say it isn't bad
this Wednesday? Well, consider
if you've nowhere to go
but Wednesday
if the borders have been sealed
and your passport to the next
24 hours
has been lifted

I am looking for Thursday
on Wednesday
Thursday a way out
to Friday.
But I'm still here in Wednesday
a country of dolts and smugglers
Wednesday's cares the colour of
grey phlegm.

Wednesday when the week sags
like a wet washing line
Wednesday with its clocks
always turned to the walls
Wednesday when the bus arrives
to get you our of there
but passes you by
the Chief Smuggler waving from the driver's seat
leaving you at the curb
in the middle of Wednesday.

Wednesday with its sullen hotels
and rundown cafes
always full
no reservations
waiters pushing you out

Wednesday when nobody has met you
and you have met nobody
but clerks and smugglers
all day
and Friday
Friday with its metallic
blue butterflies
a far-off country
across sealed borders
of perilous time zones.

From the book The Darkness in My Pockets published 1976 by Olga Cabral.

OP posts:
Cadbury · 06/04/2005 11:10

Yep, that pretty much sums it up for me. Thanks for posting that Mothernature.

Mothernature · 06/04/2005 12:26
OP posts:
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