Scott Simpson · Poetry

The Weekend That Never Comes

Use For Kindling · source pages 91, 92

The original line breaks, stanza spacing, and placement are preserved. Long lines scroll horizontally.

Source page 91

We trained ourselves

to wait. To chase. We fed

the calendar like a god, and hoped

the sacrifice would bring

a weekend holy enough

to save us.

But joy doesn’t do weekends.

It sits right here in the bite

of cold air in the scratch of a

chicken’s wing in the hum

of thread under needle

in the song we forgot

we were allowed to sing.

Source page 92

The veil is thin

if you let it be.