Because Mondays are
bulging bowls of satsumas,
first nugget of sunrise
or an apostrophe of flame,

and Tuesdays are
a row of blooming hydrangeas,
tall glasses of blueberry juice
or a last swatch of sky before night,

then Wednesdays are
a chubby lavender bush,
Parma Violet streaked teeth
or punnets of plump plums,

so Thursdays are
a pile of squashed rubber ducks,
frozen smile bananas
or the hemorrhage of an egg,

but Fridays are
a grass clippings mountain range,
eczema-skinned avocados
or skinny grasshopper limbs,

whereas Saturdays are
a ladybird’s speckled coat,
spoonfuls of pomegranate blobs
or a mushroom umbrella,

while Sundays are
a snowman’s **** belly,
globes of vanilla ice-cream
or a candle’s last word.