A poem
The week before Easter I sort the days into lines
This week did not go according to plan. I feel pulled in many directions so I’m going to just give you a poem this week, and as this is the week before Easter, I’m posting a poem that I wrote several years ago about the week before Easter. And in a bit of synchronicity it perfectly describes my week. (I played with the line breaks a bit so it would look okay on the phone.) The poem first appeared in the Atlanta Review as a series of five poems—this one was March 5. It is also part of my upcoming book Gathering the Pieces of Days: A Year in Poetry by
.The week before Easter I sort the days into lines
On Monday I dream I’ve been awake for sixteen years
two-and-a-half spent reading
the news
On Tuesday I don’t dye Easter eggs
pink, lavender, green, yellow, blue
On Wednesday I’m pulled in six directions
east, west, north, south, up, down
On Thursday I scream coffee, more coffee!
and the altar is draped in black
On Friday I wear black
shirt, pants, shoes
On Saturday I trip on stepping stones
the As rally but not enough to win
On Sunday I don’t take a photo before church
me in my new Easter dress, hat,
white patent-leather shoes
I don’t go to church; I eat a scone
with lemon curd
Easter Photo, late 1960s
Leeann,
Catholic guilt is the best - I know.
Joel
I used to dress (be dressed) exactly like that!
Love this - helps me let go of guilt about my own week. Also, significancr in "stepping stones"!