Poetry

When The Weekly Planner Begins To Corrupt

So, Saturday
having lost its identity-
say, for me, week three-
then Monday gave up the ghost
that day after Easter
And with Sunday succumbing
to becoming just another 24-
makes tomorrow Tuesday or
Thursday, or a maybe this or that
remaining weekday,
in might-be mid-March,
or early April, or more likely —
late Spring…..early Summer…mid-Autumn?

Of Twenty? Of Twenty One.?

NaPoWriMo April 2020.


About the author

r.douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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