Seven Days in a Week

Edward MyCue

Spice without sugar,
sense, sensibility, taut, deceptively simple,
leading one to query
if there may be an exit photo
somewhere hidden
in the wings days later
albeit withheld in a way that makes such an entry
disturbing and wryly humorous—
entered in a casual, off-hand amusing way
economically something suggesting
ruthlessness on an outside view
and nothing stirring, nor tragic
(nor of apparent significance
beyond the surface)
and could not be anything but
life seen as traditional
Greek shadow puppeteering
exhibiting a vividness
through compression—
a selection suggesting
we no longer have all the time in the world.



        


Edward Mycue Born in Niagara Falls, NY, grew up in North Texas, studied in Boston, interned at WGBH-TV, Peace Corps Volunteer, Department of Health, Education, & Welfare employee, writing years in Europe, settled in San Francisco where I have published several books of poetry.


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