Poem: Return Address

In those ancient days of letters, was that letter really lost in the mail?

Return Address I wonder which of my letters are lost to you Lying this moment in the dusty confines of some dead letter office between here and there Thoughts that spun in my head for you to weave into the fabric of us Lost now, plane crashed en-route, metaphorically Gone, with no survivors, smoldering wreckage Lost before being seen, death before birth The soiled, curled corners of what I meant for you, crushed, occupant unknown, spindled and mutilated I’ll get a stamp, linger to print my full return address The need to touch you too strong before, so I just scribbled a name and city, but more info now in the upper-left corner, my center too focused on your name then, the rest just maintenance, done badly And anyhow, perhaps I wrote it wrong, rushing, transposing a letter or number beyond postal ability The proof of me undelivered something I expected you to know, a detail of my life unexplained in this separated, time zoned existence, sent Par Avion and lost So if you’ve not yet heard from me, the words lie there Dead-lettered, but still alive and hopeful, someone bound to pick it up, finger it for a pulse, call an ambulance Sirens scream down your block, lights flashing, to deliver me, not dead, just lacking a return-address

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection CORNER OF MY MIND available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.