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What About Me??

A poem by Cadence Bommarito, Freshman English Language Arts Education Major

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Monday is my throw away day

Scribble me out


Tuesday

I stare at the ceiling


Wednesday is filled

With naps


On and on the week fluctuates and bounces

Put those words together

Flounces

One could say I’m flouncy

Or rather confident

My confidant may argue

But it’s his job to

Speaking of which

Jobs are day to day

Weekly days, days of the week

So innocent

Like that of a worthy lamb

Drive him not to a cliff but to a Shepard’s sword

And eat his liver

Live on She will

Frolicking and grazing

Oh cheap labor it is

On Monday night dinner

If you scribble me out of the pages

I promise I’ll behave

Because behavior is meaningless

When you have no idea how to act

Amongst a group of peers

Amongst your confidant

The audience is critical,

I’ve learned

People need people

People need people

People need sheep

Who is the sheep

The Shepard

Or the lamb?

And why must we be just one

When truth be told: the audience is never going to behave

With my pages blank,

besides Monday scribbles, long Tuesday nights and Wednesday’s napping,

I withdraw from writing the days

Instead I’ll appeal to the militia

Salute to the very army that sent days of the week

Because what in the hell is a Thursday?

Blank my mind goes because Thursday is army green and November is purple

But this is unimportant

Irrelevant

Utterly useless

Unless

The itching and the scratching and the biting was all worth that fruitful Friday night

But I shouldn’t forget Saturday

Lively

And Sunday

Where did Sunday go?

I do not know

I never will figure that one out

But maybe the stupid lamb knows

Maybe it knows something I don’t

Is that why it follows suit?

And behaves in a manner of Shepherd's staff to grassy mud to lamb’s hoof

One by one the hooves trot

Leaving a trail of pitter patter

Through

Monday’s scribbles

Tuesday’s contemplation

Wednesday’s slumber

What day is it at 12 in the morning?

When the sky is still dark from yesterday’s sunset

But the clock features “a.m.”

Meaning it’s finally Sunday

Oh no this can’t be right

Wrong “S” day of the week

It’s Saturday all over again

I can’t do another Saturday

Not with all the pitter patter

Crickets chirp now too

Louder than the audience’s applause

That’s your queue

Clap for me

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