If not in letters, how else to catch
The spirit? If not in the slant
Of the hand, the dip and scratch
Of the pen, where other than
In the blotted and erased,
Is the reach of mind to mind,
Day to day, caught? If not
In boxes, how else to trap
Those years and longings,
Every secret in every scrap
With ‘Par Avion’, ‘Inland Mail’,
‘Personal’ and ‘Confidential’,
With stamps across the seas and
Seals with dates and details.
How urgently each sheet lays bare
Its need to breathe with, to share.