Wednesday is here,
the third dot of the ellipses
but smaller
and in its smallness, darker
a pinhole
a trap for the speck
a flick of the second hand
a twitch in the face of the clock
3 2 1
how thin the stroke is
how the dot fades
into a nick
My wednesday
and the sun is angry
a shining hoodlum,
bright and brute, a bully
I fear for this day
I fear it might be
crushed into a pulp
by the heat
sandwiched by its brothers
the middle child
runny-nosed,trickling snot
spit spat
saliva on the pavement
3 2 1
and gone.