My Days These Days

By Joseph Hesch

My days these days go by like eyeblinks.
Oops, there went another one.
It’s not that there’s a whole lot
happening during those between-blinks.
In fact barely anything occurs at all,
unless you like the flashing sameness
of unedited time-lapse photography
in an empty bedroom. Sun pours
through the window and seeps across
a tan percale bedspread, illuminating
an open, half-vacant closet.
Eventually, everything goes
altogether black, the sun so bored
it takes its business
around the planetary corner.
Maybe I sleep so poorly,
awakening too many times at night,
because I worry if this is all
I’ll ever see again—darkness.
Come dawn, I blink the night
from my eyes, counting up  
even more days I’ve wasted,
worrying about wasting
my days these days.


8 thoughts on “My Days These Days

  1. Joe, I hear you. Sometimes I wonder about how fast time is going. I am sorry to hear the sadness in this. I hope tomorrow is a better day and that you wake up and you do one thing different, and that one thing will lighten your day 🙂

  2. there's an ennui to this that's just…. lovely, somehow. particularly fond of the lines "the sun so boredit takes its businessaround the planetary corner."–genius. if this is in any way autobiographical, hope you're hanging in there, Joe, and more than hanging in there.

  3. I do like this line, "the sun so bored it takes its business around the planetary corner" and I could feel the frustration in your words.

  4. Joe…I don't like the sounds of this! Wasted days indeed! I'll force the sun back if I have to! Take the road to no where, cross a border and land at your doorstep with a fancy UV light if I have to! If I have survived these past few days/weeks in my bubble…I can surely help you not only survive them…but see the immense value in each and every one!

  5. Joe, I could thoroughly relate to this poem. I've had periods of ennui, also depression, where everything blends into a puddle of blah. Your ending, reminding us that time waits for no one, and that the older you get, the less time you have to waste, lit a fire under me, reminding me not only of depression, but of days simply squandered. I hope to be a busy girl for the remainder of my time on this plane! Amy (and a lighter post)

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