Adventures in Poetry

on Monday
the word is alarm clock
mine a shrill pounding on the head of my ear drum
a war cry awakening aimed at beating the sleep away from my body
it is twisted sheet and snooze button
and praying I set the coffee timer
cautious hand reaching to brush the hair away from your gentle face
the way I would when the wake up call was good morning
and a kiss

on Tuesday
the word is tantrum
since it's your turn to do the dishes
and I did them yesterday
and will be made to do them tomorrow
do you know the weight of dishwater
when you can't stop cooking for two

on Wednesday
it is pep talk
from anyone paying attention
to the way I refuse to go home after work
a seething cauldron of empty words
boiling into a witches' brew

on Thursday
the word is usually regret
which washes into Friday's reckless
eleven shots of anything strong enough for my heart as target practice
jukebox and table dance
and sloppy on the bar stool
it is lip and teeth and tongue and hands
to whomever presents themselves willing first
it is knowing memories are a dime a dozen
and paying the cost to be forgetful

Saturday morning
the word is mirror
and how the reflection grays in the frame
a dull whisper in the sag of my eyelids
each with the weight of the world on its lash
and I force myself to be still
to stand heavy and broken
lost and unsure
as to how to cull smiles from the ache in my throat
to shed tears
and not see your face

there is no word
for how I miss you on Sunday
hands raised during morning worship
a chorus of church folks calling on God
when all I want is to scream your name
their tears
a connection to something holy
mine
a desperate longing to hold you
to hold you
and be made whole again
and have no need to find words