Tonight's Poet Corner: This Week Won't Die

This Week Won't Die
by Belinda Roddie

Wednesday's when I get the blues
and stitch up my sighs in a burlap sack.
I grab something sweet to eat, head to
the abandoned railroad tracks, and dip my
toes into rain puddles after stripping off my
war veteran shoes.

Thursday's not much better, so Wednesday
will do. I'll savor the flavor of a meager
morning, then survive the afternoon after
some breathing exercises. After sorrow, it's
the panic I have to deal with, blow by blow,
attack by attack, and it's always
so fucking sharp.

I haul my ass back home when the evening's
too old. When it's young, I draw circles
in my head, like a halo to make me holy
for once in my life, for once in my life, for
once in my goddamn life.