The Brooklyn Rail

MARCH 2021

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MARCH 2021 Issue
Poetry A Tribute to Lewis Warsh

Days of the Week

For Lewis


Monday the crossword is easy
Tuesday begins with a “T”
Wednesday I get a bodega coffee and pay in quarters
Thursday I find three free books
Friday I get paid and order delivery
Saturday I stay in bed and forget to eat
Sunday I eat and cry
Monday the sun comes in hot through the window
Tuesday the heat is off and I can see my breath inside
Wednesday my toes never warm up
Thursday the line for the grocery store goes out the door and around the block
Friday I leave work feeling nothing at all
Saturday I think about love letters
Sunday I write a poem about wanting to write a love letter
Monday I do not write
Tuesday my period starts and I use toilet paper
Wednesday I go to the pharmacy and use self-checkout
Thursday I buy the newspaper but don’t read any of it
Friday might as well be Tuesday
Saturday the cats meow a lot
Sunday a bird lands on the fire escape – a rock dove
Monday I wear two masks
Tuesday I think a lot about how it feels to kiss someone
Wednesday I wake from a sex dream and cry
Thursday I wake again
Friday I wake again
Saturday I wake again, but later than the days before
Sunday I berate myself for being narrow and lazy
Monday I watch traffic and spill coffee on clean laundry
Tuesday feels endless
Wednesday everything seems annoying and useless
Thursday begins with a “T”
Friday I wake from a nightmare – I was shaking maggots out of my kitchen appliances and they squirmed
all over the counter and floor
Saturday I watch a lot of television
Sunday has the word “sun” in it
Monday I think about eggs a lot
Tuesday is the name of a day of the week
Wednesday the phone rings but I don’t know the number
Thursday I want to be married with children in the middle of nowhere
Friday I just want a loving family all my own
Saturday my wants and worries gather in my mouth and throat
Sunday I miss my friends like they’re dead
Monday I check my credit score
Tuesday my gums bleed when I floss
Wednesday there’s nothing in the mailbox

Contributor

Sarah Anne Wallen

lives in Brooklyn and is the poet behind the collection Don’t Drink Poison (United Artists Books, 2015).

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The Brooklyn Rail

MARCH 2021

All Issues