the modernists believed that
a whole life could be
represented in a day
like a strand of DNA
representing the whole
of a person.

if that were true if life
all of it
could be fit into
a day
any day
this day
then

this day, my day,
is cold tea
and empty rooms.

I forgot to have breakfast
and tried to write.
notes
post-its
pens
are scattered across my desk along with
empty cups
and passing thoughts.

if this day, my day,
is all of my life then
there is
so little
love
in it.


if this day is all there is
it has so little
meaning.


living for a day is dangerous she said she wrote

I wanted to walk alongside a river
to see where it would
take me

instead
I sat
at my desk
again

today
is what my life is.