Where do letters sit
In the hierarchy or the continuum of our lives
If in that four AM correspondence
You had your eye on the main chance
Did the outcome you hoped for come to fruition
Is the letter a commencement of a two-way communication
Is it voyeuristic to look back on our own sensual words
To insinuate on other peoples most intimate writing
Are we out to show love, or care, or to set our stall out
Make the newly shared arrangements clear and unequivocal
Does the letter establish any form of contract
Could it be counted as part of the foundation
On which all other relationships are assembled or interlaced
Do we, by committing pen to paper, make any other commitment
Does the pace and certainty (with the time for thought)
Give the parchment more gravitas than the spoken word
When we whisper ‘I love you’ are we aiming for it not to be overheard
Are we to be so bold as when we seal the envelope with a kiss
Having left the words ‘I miss you’ inside for eternity
The spoken word, the written word; what precedes them?
Do our first chanced glances look for the make of the fountain pen
Do we feel for the weight of the stock
On which our lovers future scribes will be formed
Are we required to have been lovers
Before our true feelings can make their way to the postman
For him again to deliver the myth of physical offerings
Into your consummation of their erotic suggestions
Is this the end of the letters journey
From wondering how you are
To making it necessary to take your underwear to the cleaners
Is this the culmination of literary thought
Pencil stains, pen & ink & semen
Mail that sails by itself, nude through the ether
