No one knew the universe
Would be assassinated
On Wednesday.
Everyone had beautiful dreams,
Elaborate love lives, and imagination,
But all of that would be gone
On Wednesday.
Every terrible hatred, every regret,
Every deep love, every desire
To caress and repeat the caress
Would be gone
On Wednesday.
Everything would go black
All at once,
And even black
Would go black.
On Wednesday,
It’d turn out the
Universe was an anecdote,
Or cocktail talk, or a whimper
In the night by someone who
Doesn’t deserve to dream.
The universe would turn out
To be a footnote or doodle.
After Wednesday, there would
Be no more Wednesdays
And no one to miss Wednesdays.
After Wednesday,
There’d be no one
To feel nostalgia
For the universe
Or to make up reasons
To give it meaning.

Written on Tuesday.