Today's prompt: "I want you to write a poem about Friday. Do you like Fridays? Despise Fridays? Of course, you can also write about something that happened on a Friday--or write an ode to Fridays. Or, as you know, I'm all for seeing you attack this from an angle I haven't thought of yet."
Frigg this—enough with the veneration.
My Friday is someone else's Monday
and it's already tomorrow in Australia.
What of Wednesday? Odin gets short
shift again, reduced to hump day despite
magical connections to poetry and war.
I suppose Friday-worship was inevitable
given the Roman adoration of Venus. Far
be it for me to disdain the myriad
complexities of date love.