Swizzle Stick

the sad day's sun

April 9— Persona — write a poem in the voice of a person who is not you. (That’s most of my poems!)

by four the day has lost its hope,
clear in its lengthening shadows

& I finish what's left in my cup
though it's cold now, my hands

cold too in damp gloves, both left,
maybe one day I'll find a right

& maybe I'll sleep tonight
the stone wall holding a touch

of the sad day's sun, the cement
of my bed softening like snow

on the sea, the sea, the sea,
where I may drown the day, & sleep