Last week I got hold of the longing for what is missing
I swear to God I saw it all the way around and laughed.
I bundled it used bubble wrap and put it in a box.
And sent it to myself
Special delivery.
Next day when the postman knocked
I had on lipstick
And smiling took the package, signed his screen
And nodded with a secret Oh I will when he told me to Enjoy.
I closed the door and stood a moment.
Breathing.
So this would be the day.
And this is what that day looked like:
Yellow, buttery. Midmorning.
If there’d been a clock it might have struck.
Eleven probably.
I broke the box
I burst the bubbles
I tore it open
And there inside
Found nothing.
At all.
I’m still trying to make sense of what happened.
On top of that
The postage cost a fortune.
