Thursday, April 11, 2013

From A Fly-Over State (10/30) (A Letter Poem)

Dear [redacted],
I want to start with the weather, but everyone does -
so I'll start with -
I talked with him the other day
(you don't know him;
it's fine) anyway, he said
You're going to run away.
One day, I'll wake up, and you'll be gone. 
Yes, I said
with a heavy turquoise tongue.
He knows I belong broken apart in the sand.
I suppose I know it, too.

Don't worry, I'll write if I leave.
Don't worry. You can wet the paper and paste your heart back together.
Though, I'm sure my absence won't be harmful to the spinning of the sky, to the birds of prey, to the downward turn of the horizon.
To anything.

Anyway, it's raining here. Three straight days.
And the price of milk, goodness knows when that will level off.

Hope all is well,

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