Return To Sender #1 & #2

Return to Sender #1

return to sender
address unknown
may 1968/2007

Hello, my darlingest -

love missile received
aimed straight for my heart -
and I want you to know
I lie here in bed
most nights -
sculpting your face into view,
a habit I’ve learned to replace you,
your letters stopped coming
too soon.

Watching the news is unbearable,
when all I think of is losing
you.

Your tenderness fades during news briefs
like poking my eye in your sleep,
but baby -
your poking elbow I miss,
and all your bad habits as well.

Hey
those azaleas bloomed!
hot pink splashed on fuchsia -
your favorite colors on me
said so yourself!
lickin’ lipstickedy luscious you purred.
Caught in a stare -
colors freeze an image -

another memory of us
out on the veranda smokin’ chicken
a la “I’ll take the potata in the back, Jack,
don’t like ‘em burrrrrrned, b-a-b-y!
and babe,
I feel burned
and crisp
and raw,
without the blanket of your love
wrapped around me tight
like roses clenched in my fist,
while our wedding guests danced round and round and
round us,
drunk on love and laughter!

and, baby,
that’s what I miss the most.
If I could “can” that stuff
I’d send a case or two
“for emergency only”
..and…baby…

I wish I were there to recharge your fortitude.


Hello, my love - Return to Sender #2

return to sender
address unknown
june 1968/2007

Hello, my love -

looking at your photo
on your belly, rifle drawn
in jungle fatigues
is terrifying, hon…

Far cry from your get-up
in Mid-Summer Night’s Dream -
hi-lar-i-ous!
Thought I’d scrrreeeam when you lunged at me -
your tights drawn and sword up!

Twelfth Night was even better -
prancing around
in those damn leotards!
Amazing fence-faking back-breaking gyrations -
awkward at first like love-making,
and like love-making -
quickly finessed.

You Errol Flynned me
with your fencing skills -
epee poised and ready to prick
some dastardly bastard! but nooooo!
had to lunge! twist! thrust! and plunge!
skewering my couch pillow as I grimaced -
not for my heirloom -
it was fresh-kill face made me shudder.

Your face has that same look
as I study your eyes in this photo -
no sign of twisted tights or eat-shit grin,
no hint of prance or ballroom dance, dear,
this is a last-time face, darling..
not the love-soaked Nureyev eyes
…………..I knew before your first kill.

Janet Leigh 1968/1967