(after the nursery rhyme)
Born
on
Monday
The midwife, watching for signs in the stars,
declares the time has come; it cannot be otherwise.
Neighbor folk fill the room with flowers,
and when at last the water
breaks they jerk the drunken father awake
and send him to buy blessings from the priest.
Christened
on
Tuesday
At the baptismal font the parish priest
recites the sacrament: “May Christ the morning star
guard this child sleeping and guide him waking.
May he know a life of grace and be wise
in God’s ways. By the Holy Spirit and by this water
may he persevere and flourish like a flower.”
Married
on
Wednesday
Now a young man, he carries flowers
and meets his beloved before the beaming priest.
Solomon’s eyes are filled with water
as he recalls their garden walks beneath the stars.
“So shall you love one another always and all wise,”
the villagers sing, following in the couple’s wake.
Took ill
on
Thursday
A summer’s day at the parish wakes.
Grundy strolls with wife and child among wildflowers,
never doubting the goodness of a God all-wise.
Joyful, he bows for a blessing from the priest.
That night, taken ill, he retches beneath the stars.
Shivering in bed, he cries out for water.
Worse
on
Friday
Now fevers wrack him. He gasps for water, more water,
his moans keeping neighbors awake.
He is flailing, thrashing at the thousand stars
bursting in his head. His wife strews flowers
and sends the boy to bring the priest.
Onlookers keen and wail, “Lord, let it be otherwise!”
Died
on
Saturday
The race is not to the swift, nor bread to the wise,
says the scripture. His lips reject the proffered water.
He is too far gone to hear the prayers of the priest.
The villagers are gathered for the wake,
drunk on ale perfumed with flowers
while Grundy’s soul wanders among the stars.
Buried
on
Sunday
Let the wise beware and repent, the eulogizing priest declares,
for who numbers the stars? Who cares for the wildflowers?
Like the tumbling waters, all must follow in Grundy’s wake.
