Mid Week, poetry by Roy Eisenstein at Spillwords.com
Patricia Luquet

Mid Week

Mid Week

written by: Roy Eisenstein



Middle of the week stop sign blues
Everything delicate and quiet rumbles and quakes under the weight of the day
It’s coffee fueled wanderings of the mind
An unauthorized biopsy of the dead spaces
The frozen mummies
The dreams written in dust
Everything unforgotten

It’s here
In the thinking
Retracking over sacred ground
Assembling the fragments in an archeological mystery

Where does it all come from
These emotional relics
Where are they going

And so it’s Wednesday
A bookmark or a shim between days
The golden spike
An artificial marker on a terrain that exists only in our imaginations

Days of the week?
Prefabricated edifices made of smoke
Attempts at finding order
Something that appears solid to lean on

So time feels sluggish and maybe even broken
It limps through the morning and afternoon
A wounded soldier
A drunken poet
A fool who only sees what he wants to see

So goes the rhythm of it
The pulse’s tattoo
Something to dance to
To believe in
To feel moving in the chest

And then it’ll be Thursday

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