saturday

a day, laid out to flay and scandalize,

reserved for a more macabre affair

some spikes, some wood,

some dereliction of hope, one cosmic corpse

and in these longest of all hours

lay light itself

without so much as a yawn

–

the skies, now silent and spent

the skies, now silent and spent

review their own sorry past

for all hope has fled

replaced by the wordless song

of a dead friend

Painting by Wayne Haag