The consequence of Wednesdays
Parented by Tuesdays
Enchained in turn by Thursdays
That parse our times and lives
Assigns the rigid order
To package star events
That nestle in our minds
And join to make us whole.
Birthdays and deathdays
Stand resolutely planted
In foundations of our soul,
The anchors of the scaffold of our thought.
From these string ropes of continuity,
Hang bright colors out of gay events
Suspend black rags of tragedy
So that we run, along these lines,
The finger of our memory
To say,”Thus it was, and how.” And wonder why.
Over morning coffee, our ruminations push
And shake the rigid past, the bottom line
That says who we were and are and why it came that way
Because one scalpel minute, one fractured second
Of one assassin day.