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Description

I never cared for licking envelopes.

They tasted something horrible,

something like pasty moth wings.

It's useful, though, to keep inventory

of rasping saffron embers, of arduous kindle

that aches like a wound to blaze, but

scabs over and ends are not met.

[See this hourglass?

Well, I would like to

crush it in my palm,

personally.]

I can fold into a standard-sized cardboard box

which is convenient, but

I have nothing to say to you.

I don't speak language, I only— I only—

. . .

Stamps are good for sealing stony silence—

good thing you don't have to lick those, too.