Thursday Poem

by nicolecallihan

Trying to find a poem to post, I notice a terrible deficiency in poems that contain Thursdays. Tuesdays are everywhere; Sundays follow closely, but Thursdays seem all but forgotten. How sad to be a Thursday, especially when the cold sets in, and you have not worn socks (your mother would be disappointed), and you have left your scarf on the hook by the door, the hook you hung so you would not forget to grab your scarf on a cold day, a Thursday say, when you were running–breathless, poem-less–out the door, running somewhere that you have already arrived and now nearly forgotten.

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