Academic journal article The Virginia Quarterly Review

The Letter

Academic journal article The Virginia Quarterly Review

The Letter

Article excerpt

THE LETTER

The pigeon-house of letters

begins its impossible flight

from the trembling tables

where memory leans,

the weight of absence,

the heart, the silence.

I hear the wingbeat of letters

sailing toward their fate.

Wherever I go, I meet

women, men

badly wounded by absence,

withered by time.

Letters, stories, letters:

postcards, dreams,

fragments of tenderness

hurled into the sky,

sent from blood to blood,

from longing to longing.

Although my loving body

is under the earth now,

write to me on earth,

so I can write to you.

In the corner old letters,

old envelopes grow mute

with the color of age

pressed down on the writing.

There the letters perish

filled with shivering.

There the ink feels death throes,

and the loose sheets fail,

and the paper fills with holes

like a cemetery

of passions gone by,

of loves to come.

Although my loving body

is under the earth now,

write to me on earth,

so I can write to you.

When I'm about to write you

the inkwells stir,

those cold black wells

blush and tremble,

and a clear human warmth

rises from the black depths. …

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