Enveloped

 

the gorgeous nothings
the gorgeous nothings

from your

garden

please send

a pinch of

parsley

in your next

letter and

note the

moisture

closely

i will measure

travel time

this way

then send back

word of a

stenographer

who lost her job

screaming

G-d will not be

mocked

and another

fired

for typing

I hate my job

during a trial

the only hour

that mattered

when he was

finally read out loud

in this short

life that

only lasts

an hour and is

shaped like

old underwear.

 

(Based on Emily Dickinson’s new envelope poem fragments)

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