Days – Poetry by Carson Pytell

Someday, when you are old and your head swells with impertinence,
May you find again this day naked and open as it found you;
Perhaps by happenstance, perhaps circumstance,
And recall its minutiae, its majesty smirking:

You didn’t wake up because you hadn’t slept the night before,
And the warmth of a morning snare brush was interrupted by the doorbell.
Jehovah’s Witnesses had dropped by to tout their dogma
To your polite but pre-positioned ears. You listened then let them off.

Then you sat down with coffee to work. You measured time in stanzas.
You sat with nothing more than tickling delusions and stood 
Only after they had been wrought into something redeeming.
So you sat for a very long time. But you never got stiff.

You were passionate then, brimming with fervor, a flashing flame,
Resigned to live as was Sarah Kane to die, an indoor Dionysus.
You aimed to take pleasure and pain in the same spoonful and, more,
To make something of it. And (remember?) you did.

You called it quits in the afternoon and melted your mind with T.V.
The family came home from work and school and you chatted and ate
And did some editing after everyone had settled in.
Then sleep came before you noticed. You suddenly woke up.

Try, try to remember that yesterday.
Remember its trivialities trounced, its soft significance,
Remember your bygone attitudes, your passions, your pledge,
And they will remind you tomorrow is worth remembering too

About the Poet

Carson Pytell is a poet and short fiction writer living in a very small town in upstate New York. His was has previously appeared or is forthcoming in such publications as Vita Brevis, Literary Yard, Leaves of Ink, Revolution John, Corvus Review, Gideon Poetry Review, Poetry Pacific, Former People, Futures Trading and The Pangolin Review.

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