Sunday Abandonment

Keep talking.
The kitchen has gentle
butchering knives.

“Today’s Sunday. I need to speak to you.”

Take Sunday back, then. Drown it!
Slaughter it!
Sunday is starving itself in a fit of tension;
leather skin begging for lotion.

Weak days have poor eating habits.
Anxious bellies roll,
tumbling rejection


Un-Sunday, then keep talking!
Your speech has sharp fingertips,
jabbing at my spider webs,
my sticky, thick mesh.

Un-Sunday, then
cut jelly rolls,
tumble Sunday

Without rejection.



15 thoughts on “Sunday Abandonment

  1. Wow, you really know how Sunday feels. Remember when we were in school and Monday was looming at the end of a weekend? I never could enjoy Sundays past 5:30 pm. But now I’ll look on the Sunday evening anxiety a bit more poetically. Thank you for sharing.

  2. Ah-ha! There you are! You were working on a complex poem with the fatal words ‘I need to speak to you …’

    Your use of all poetic tools is utterly awesome, MaggieMae – respect

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