unread letters (20170709)

i found your blood
in a red-stained envelope
waiting in my mailbox
throbbing like an organ

the thickened state of it
surprised me though

i thought it would be more akin
to ice water than a
hot, swirling pudding of
reds and browns

easy enough to take a pen
and write
–but carefully
so as not to puncture–
[return to sender]
and lift the heart-red flag
to alert the postman

i didn’t have a letter opener, you see
and i was out of stationery and
razor blades
for a proper reply

14 thoughts on “unread letters (20170709)”

  1. A throw-down of vigorous language without apology. Had to get through my second cup of coffee and read a few times though. The last two stanzas engaged me the most.

  2. I read this several hours ago and knew I had to come back to it with more time. The double meanings dropped in unexpectedly are what drew me back through multiple times. More than a heart in here – will say no more than that.

  3. I wish I’d get letters like those! You’re so lucky. I would’ve torn into them with my teeth — who needs a letter opener? Oh, wait; your beak would be a hindrance. I see. Love the imagery.

  4. Um… appendix or appendage? My guess would be both! But don’t go bragging: Nothing succeeds like a beak-less bird.

    Your poem is one that dares the reader to read it just once. Like Lays… you have to come back to it. Bloody well written! Something to crow about.

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