Is Not That

The day does not know it is
A day, does it? How could it?

A child plays a game in sun.
The light on the bare porch glows.

A cat strolls on the yard walls
That keep each house in its shell.

The sun is in all our eyes,
So low and all the leaves gone.

There’s no day at all, is there?
There’s this sprawled white light, the scenes

Of the yards and the roofs, blue
Sky to the west, a few clouds.

There’s the news from far from here.
There’s the sound of roads. A jet.

But is there a day to this?
A page to turn on a map

Of days laid out in grid counts,
Sure, there’s that. This is not that.

Be glad this day is no day.
There’s no day to end in night.

There’s sun that shrinks on the floor.
There’s a pulse left in your throat.

There’s a black bird. A truck roar.
The child ends her game. She’s bored.