The fourth week

By Sarah Essa


I do not approve

Of women content

To lie in ivory towers

But on the fourth week

I can see the appeal

Of a garnet spire

Upon which to lounge

In a garnet dress

I spill no rubies

I am no moon child

And life is difficult to think kindly of

When it holds my entrails in a vice

I dislike the telling stains

And murder scene showers

That only the fourth week brings

I appreciate the sentiment

Your scarlet words ty to inspire

But hungry horny hurting blood

Makes me think perhaps

You wrote those words

In the second week or third

But probably not the fourth