Last Saturday

Guest Writers

candle
Last Saturday
by Wynn Everett

Once the day confirmed, counting forward
then backward, it could be the last one

not that what was coming wouldn’t be better
but sometimes people exaggerate.

Lit a candle in the chapel, then block to block
looking for slivers of relief from

overhanging limbs, only to be hit by
the reality of summer and my swelling feet.

It was the end. Or beginning.
Every Saturday since more miraculous than the last.

1 thought on “Last Saturday

  1. I like this. Has a nice swing to it between the stanzas, and a religious feel that one can believe on an existential basis. One could say, DESPITE “the reality of summer and my swelling feet”, “every Saturday since more miraculous than the last.” A spirited attitude.

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