Note
from Lima
(Monday Mornings,
Postcards and Assorted
Pinon and Starlike
References)
Like the insides of pinon
the startled meaty fruit of
nutseed
caught between the teeth and
by surprise
the seed like star pops from
its boat of skin
to roll around on the tongue
the shell discarded
left to melt back into the
earth
that was me when
I received your postcard
tattooed in exotic postage
and dressed in your eager
penmanship and ballpoint
poetry
across wind-swept continents
and
the expanse of time
your postcard slept inside
the iron
gut of my morning mailbox
its long scribbled arms
waiting to wrap
their memories around my
neck
all the way from Cusco
all the way from Lima
I popped open from the sleep
of my skin
I allowed your words to roll
around the tongue
caught between happiness and
melancholy
I read and re-read your note
from Peru
The individual letters
mapped out your travels
spelled out your future
plans
the constellation of your
heavenly body
tiny crammed script let me
know you
thought of me
crooked little letters
spilling
from the tattered corners
falling off the edge of
earth
into the mouth of ocean
lingering, I savored the
juicy meat
the fruit of your words
the brightly-skinned
postcard
startled by the sudden
shooting star of tears
that fell like a light rain
from my naked cheek
I turned my back
then and walked into the
wind
back to the warm spot of my
apartment
to sip my hot coffee and
brush out
my tangled morning hair
like the pinon shell
earthy and dusty
falling from the pine tree
I melted back into the eart
BACK
NEXT