The letters arrive every other week,
addressed to someone else, not me,
and I’ve lived here ten years.
Postmarks vary, though the handwriting
hasn’t changed much — fainter, shakier,
uncertain, as though aboard a drifting
boat she tosses the line
again and again, hoping
her anchor will find purchase.
The letters arrive every other week,
addressed to someone else, not me,
and I’ve lived here ten years.
Postmarks vary, though the handwriting
hasn’t changed much — fainter, shakier,
uncertain, as though aboard a drifting
boat she tosses the line
again and again, hoping
her anchor will find purchase.