Epistles
I’ve seen
inked
visitations
of
observation and report
they’ve
come in glance and innuendo
changes
of expression
short-changed
response
to
things real and perceived.
Epistles
I’ve read
notes
of passing and no-return
senders
moving on
not
too long after
the
finality of eternal claim.
Epistles
now arrive
from
far away and now
hand-delivered
love
crafted
in write and read
and
these notes of endearment
come
now as box
as
bookmark and candy
inviting
a philately
that
is not nation-bound,
for
these epistles
cashew-shaped
and coconut-frosted
are
fluent in the grammar of enigma
of
flirt and toy
and
celebrate
in
confusion and clarity
the
timeless insanities
the
undisguised blessings
of
anonymity.
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