Ed Bayliss

I see it’s Wednesday. The week will inherit

Me. I’d forgotten which day had me

(it was a cloud covered night) 

Until Wednesday sprung and

Nudged me into her midweek march. 

We were strangers – I’d squint

At you all on primary school

Walls and tiptoe my eyes across your 

Two syllables and Saturdays.

Fridays became brilliant corners

That turned always elbow first   

Into weekends fat and satisfied

At home when we’d stir

From its sleep the wet blue clay

At the bottom of the garden. 

Sunday’s cradle curves into

Mondays of

Digits and rows and little lit multicolours

All while standing on my toenails –

Again, looking up. 

The next day’s drift tows me through

And back to the street-lighted 

Midweek.

I’ll try to thumb a ride 

To the rest of the week,

Star scored and unreached.