Letter Means Wetter by Johanna MayWe once wrote letters.
Yes we did.
Our pens were feathers,
some mallard flew askew,
for the sake of our betters.
Love sat quieter, waiting
in between replies. Sicker
before the next port,
of consumption, of fleshless
longing, or a comma short,
to complete surety. Inkless
means loveless, we were lost
coyly, in the silent gaps midst
words, we lived in the hovering
unsaid. In ties of cursive lines
we were wed.
xx
if you read this as eks, eks,
the last line says, contra-hex
if you read this as kisskiss
…yes pls. 01/06/2013 Author's Note: glass half full
Posted on 01/07/2013 Copyright © 2025 Johanna May
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