As of late, the world is all Tuesdays
their blue sky splayed open, spun-sugar
soaking up the last of summer as fall
makes her entrance, as I wait
for the appearance of orange, red, and yellow
among the worn green of long days.
Routine resumes and I find myself dreaming of escaping
to the unknown and beyond this everyday
monotony. Minutes melt off of hours and hours
off of days until Tuesdays end and become Tuesdays
again. I stare out into the piercing light
through the window, aching for the ghost
of touch, the emotional labor of loving
this world, saying Tuesday!
and meaning it so.
Thank you so much to everyone who contributed to our first collaborative poem! This came out so beautifully. We will be doing more of these, but I invite you to respond to the prompts in the comments whether it is a collaborative poem or not. At our core, Good Folk aims to be a community that centers rural and Southern voices and inspires new voices to tell their stories, and I’m always excited to see conversations and dialogues in the comment section.
Your prompt this week is to write about the house. Whichever house first comes to your mind. It could be a house you remember from your childhood, the place you currently live, a home you hope to one day have. Imagine it. Describe it. Center a story around it.