Sunday, October 30, 2005

Today the

postman brought
me a poem
from William
Carlos Williams.

Special delivery.
No letter, no
card. The
spoken word.

Stopped his bike
at the top
of the steps &
started to recite

in a voice
equally suited
for delivering
babies & poems.

“A big young bareheaded woman
in an apron….”

I was im-
Waited un-
til he had

finished &
gave him the
flight of small
cheeping birds

that were
in the ice
box & which
you were

for my
old age.

Forgive me.

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