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Three Hundred Letters
I wrote three-hundred letters today
my fingers are stiff and hurting
I had no idea all those words
were inside these digits, muscles, tendons
twenty seven bones times two
no wonder my rings wouldn't fit over my knuckles.
I stamped and sealed three hundred letters today
my lips are cracked and bleeding
sucked dry and raw by the glue
meant to hold my expressions together.
it tastes so good.
I sent three hundred letters today.
I walked to the end of the drive
and opened the box
but I stuffed and I stuffed
and I couldn't get them all in
some fell on the ground.
dirtied by footprints over the most important sentences.
some fell in puddles
so the ink dissolved and ran down the page
turning into a blur. like i am when I speak.
some caught in the wind
carrying parts of me to the farthest corners of the earth
where strange men and foreign dignitaries
will receive them
I never thought about translation
I hope they write back.
but of all those letters I wrote.
I only have thirty seven left.
I pray they get where they're going
because they're all addressed to you.
