TUESDAY 3
On the pharmacy
counter, the drugs laid out tell
the story of my life.
WEDNESDAY 4
Someone passing calls
me something that sounds like Love,
unsolicited.
THURSDAY 5
No one’s idea
of Paradise, this pointless
wasteful building site.
FRIDAY 6
Behind impasto
cloud, the half-moon, and Venus,
a point in the dark.
SATURDAY 7
Blackboards with white chalk
greetings to this city, one
asking, ‘All right, Bab?’
SUNDAY 8
Reflected in a
window, a glass of water
flickers, silvery.
MONDAY 9
A bird shrieks beyond
the playing field, another
chatters in the hedge.
Seventeen 