tuesday

wake
as appointed

rise up and go
wherever they tell you
it is morning or afternoon

primed like armament

as if you had borne arms
you kneel to combat
expecting wounds
a thousand cuts

by calendar-decorated walls
you anticipate today’s
scrawled assignations
plans and meetings
to be arranged
a normal day
predicted

darkness
left you ill-prepared
for courted justice

the long arm of laws unwritten
leading you by the shoulder
into rooms where people in robes
administer law as if it matters
where statute trumps rain or shine
over-rules the natural course
of time and motion

it must have been
the Norse gods of Valhalla
who willed this day to dawn
decreed you face the judgment again
of your peers your elders your betters

and sit you down on hard wood benches
to hear the indictment of your soul

bow the head and listen
repent and take the day’s
punishment

as well you might

© BH, 2020

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Tyr was the god of single combat and law and justice. Tuesday. Mardi, in French, for the Roman god, Mars. Or maybe, Tuesday is just a struggle. Two days into the working week, no end in sight. Some reckoned it an unlucky day others say it's full of grace.

No telling, really.

This is part of the ‘week’‚ suite, which, if such it is, runs: friday, thursday, wednesday, tuesday, monday, sunday, saturday. - week…