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
Poetry Collection: Corner of My Mind
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman's
poetry collection

available here in print
or as an e-Book
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