Improving Thursday

Of all people
Have been assigned
To fix
Fucking Thursday.

You spend the morning
Making improvements.

You paint Thursday’s
Back rooms
Sun yellow.

You clear out the screams
From Thursday’s
Southernmost provinces. 

You screw Thursday’s
Back on,
Restore its sense of humor
Annexed in the war
With Friday. 

With trembling hands
You surgically extract from Thursday night
A ticking minute,
Sparing many stupid deaths. 

You give Thursday an extra firefly or two,
A handful of silence.

You construct a bridge
Made of breath and secrets
Over Thursday’s blood.

With your cracking voice
Teach Thursday
To carry a tune. 

You who lived three thousand of them
And never lifted a finger to help,
You are good now
For all that ails Thursday. 

                           -- New York, July 2010/published in the Notre Dame Review, Winter-Spring 2012

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